





Class ~F2L_s 

Book .C T 
Copyright N°_ 

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/ 


TEN THOUSAND 
ON A LIFE 


A NOVEL 

BY 

WILLIAM A. CALDWELL, M. D. 



NEW YORK AND WASHINGTON 
THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY 

1905 




LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
fwo Copies rteceivetf i 

MAR 28 1 905 

Oopyrigm entry 

7/kt/l 2 8 /90J 
CLASS AAc. Mot 

//^ 7/0 

COPY 0. 




J 


Copyright, 1905 
By L. Kate Caldwell 


THIS BOOK 


is 

AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 

TO 

MT WIFE 

AND LITTLE DAUGHTER 


DOROTHY 


/ 


CONTENTS 


Chapter 

II. 

III. 

IV. 
V. 

VI. 

VII. 

VIII. 

IX. 

X. 

XI. 

XII. 

XIII. 

XIV. 
XV. 

XVI. 

XVII. 

XVIII. 

XIX. 

XX. 

XXI. 

XXII. 
XXIII. 
XXIV. 

XXV. 

XXVI. 

XXVII. 

XXVIII. 

XXIX. 

XXX. 

XXXI. 

XXXII. 

XXXIII. 

XXXIV. 


Prison Papers Lost 

Alaska, Alliance, Love, Revelation 

Arthur’s Fortune in Misfortunes 

After the Storm, “Yes” 

Rejected, Dejected, Promoted 

Success in Business and Love 

Mama Somerville Relents 

Harold and Florence Surprise Each Other 

Tears on the Wedding Journey 

Misfortunes — Providing Against Death.. 
Harold’s Heart Struggles with his Head. . 

Death’s Terrifying Methods 

Damaging History Unearthed 

How Widows are Devoured 

Florence Suspected 

Unexpected Clue from a “Hayseed” 

Harold’s Humiliating Testimony 

Florence Testifies — Brutality of Lawyers. 

Harold’s Unspeakable Anguish 

Wonderful Intricacies of Heredity 

Harold, Florence and Charlie Excoriated. 

Death Adjourns Court 

Tit for Tat— Zeke’s “Weddin’ Shoes” 

Florence Sees Light 

Harold’s Unexpected Honor 

Wicked Boston Politics 

Florence Reduced to Poverty 

Another Decisive Victory 

Florence Suddenly Agrees to Compromise 

Wrecked in the Night 

What a Wreck May Bring Forth 

The Past Struggles with the Future 

Death Wonderfully Foreshadowed 

Wedding Journey Surprises 


Page. 


7 

13 

22 

29 

34 


38 


43 

49 

54 


63 

69 


71 

77 


87 


94 

97 


102 

no 

120 

123 

129 

133 

135 

140 

144 

148 

158 

164 

166 

168 


174 


178 

181 

185 










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TEN THOUSAND ON A LIFE 


CHAPTER I 

PRISON PAPERS LOST 

“Pardon me, but you appear to be in trouble ; can 
I help you ?” inquired Harold Wychoff, lifting his hat 
to a young lady of unusual personal attractions who 
was nervously clicking two brass checks and talking 
in excited distress to a messenger boy at the passen- 
ger gate of the Santa Fe Railroad in Chicago. 

“Thank you ; assistance at this moment is indeed 
needed. I had to re-check my baggage here for Fort 
Madison, Iowa, but only part of it can be found. A 
traveling bag containing precious papers, as precious 
as life itself, is missing, and the train will leave soon. 
What shall I do?” 

“You would recognize the bag?” 

“Oh, yes; I hardly think there ever was another 
like it.” 

“If you will come with me to the baggage room 
we will make inquiries.” 

It was not there — had not been there, declared the 
attendant, who volunteered that “if the lady will 


8 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


leave her name and address the baggage will be 
forwarded when found. ,, 

“My name is Florence Somerville and my address 
will be 220 Market Street, Fort Madison, Iowa.” 

Harold had a ticket for a berth in the sleeper, but 
accompanied Miss Somerville to the crowded chair- 
car, where he found a seat for her next to the 
window. .The seats in the vicinity being all occu- 
pied, Harold ventured : 

“As all the chairs appear to be taken, I will sit in 
this one next to you, if agreeable.” 

“Certainly; pray make yourself comfortable.” 

The train was soon rushing over the rich, black- 
soiled country, and at Joliet, a few moments from 
Chicago, Harold observed, by way of helping on the 
rather formal conversation : 

“That large stone structure is the Illinois peniten- 
tiary, where almost as many noted criminals have 
been confined as at Sing Sing.” 

Florence suddenly put both hands to her face and 
began sobbing as if distressed beyond control. 
Thoroughly alarmed, Harold inquired if she were 
ill, and whether he could do anything for her, adding 
that he was a physician. She shook her head, still 
leaning forward with her face in her hands. 
Although puzzled and pained, he could neither do 
nor say anything ; must simply sit uneasily and wait, 
watched by all the passengers in the coach. 

Presently she lifted her head, dried her eyes and 
said bravely : 


Prison Papers Lost 


9 


“Please pardon me for acting so childishly. That 
horrid prison, which I never saw before, revived a 
very sad recollection, and womanlike, I gave way to 
my feelings. You must forgive me.” 

“I am more than sorry to have given you pain,” 
quickly rejoined Harold. “Nothing could be farther 
from my desire; will you not pardon me?” 

“Oh, you did not pain me; you have been very 
kind. My own thoughts pained me.” And in a few 
moments she was as bright and entertaining as 
though sorrow and pain had no existence. It was 
soon discovered that both were natives of Ohio, 
conversation became natural and agreeable, and the 
afternoon and evening hours passed rapidly and 
pleasantly. 

“Fort Madison!” shouted the brakeman, as the 
train pulled from the bridge over the Mississippi, 
just above the town, at midnight. 

Harold quickly brought her handbag, umbrella 
and a light cloak from the rack, saying: “You had 
better put this cloak about your shoulders, Miss 
Somerville. You will find the night air quite cool 
close to the river.” 

“Thank you ; that is a wise suggestion,” said she, 
in a hurried, nervous way, as the train came to a 
stop. “Oh, I do hope mama will meet me; I 
never was here before.” 

At the door Harold ventured : “I shall be anxious 
to know about the lost traveling bag. May I write 
from Alaska to inquire about it ?” 


10 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


“I shall feel it to be a duty to tell you of the lost 
bag/’ said Florence, meeting the honest, admiring 
eyes of Harold as he handed her delicately to the 
platform, and offered her his card — “Harold D. 
Wychoff, M. D., No. 2122 F street, northwest, 
Washington, D. C.” 

At a distance were two ladies coming toward 
them. Harold said good-bye as the train was 
moving, but the ladies seemed to advance so slowly 
that he did not take his car; he felt compelled to 
remain and learn whether Florence had met her 
mother or other friends. 

The train was moving faster and faster. Car 
after car was rushing past, and there was but a 
moment left for remounting. “Florence Somer- 
ville !” he heard one of the ladies exclaim. She was 
safe, but he barely had time to clutch the railing of 
the last car, the concussion of which threw him to 
the steps with some violence. 

“How is Brother Charlie?” was Florence's first 
question. 

“He is well — has not been sick since he came 
here.” 

Charlie Somerville, the brother inquired for, was, 
two years before, at nineteen, the son of a wholesale 
grocer at Alliance, Ohio, who apparently had before 
him only the brightest prospects. Having failed in 
his examination at Cornell, he became morose and 
left home for Denver. There he associated with 
gamblers, and especially with one James Crogan, 


Prison Papers Lost 


11 


from Baltimore. After the new gambling law went 
into effect Crogan took Charlie with him to Des 
Moines, where, with several others, he was caught 
housebreaking. All were sentenced to eighteen 
months in the penitentiary at Fort Madison. When 
asked at the prison to give his history, Charlie gave 
it truthfully. The officers took a liking to him, 
assigned him to the library and wrote to his father. 

Father, mother and sister were almost heart- 
broken by the news. The father and mother took 
the first train for Fort Madison, where the sight of 
their poor boy in big, broad stripes, close-cut hair 
and clean-shaven face within prison walls nearly 
crushed them. 

“Nothing can be done,” said the grave but kindly 
keeper; but mother thought something might be 
done and remained with her boy, while the father 
returned to his business. Opening a correspondence 
with lawyers in Des Moines resulted at last in a 
petition for pardon, signed by the judge, the jury 
and the prosecuting attorney, accompanied by state- 
ments of previous good character from prominent 
citizens of Stark County, among them a noted Con- 
gressman, author of a famous tariff bill. Florence 
was dispatched with these precious documents to 
her mother in Fort Madison, whence they were to 
be hurried to Des Moines to the Governor. Florence 
put the correspondence, together with the petition 
and some small articles of apparel, in a traveling bag 
and checked it with her trunk to Chicago. This was 


12 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


the lost bag which Harold attempted to find, and 
which meant so much to a poor boy who had been 
disgraced more by his associates than by any vicious 
or criminal tendency. 

The intercourse between Florence and her mother 
that night was pathetic. Neither slept much. The 
lost bag engaged their thoughts. What was to be 
done ? At last they determined to telegraph to their 
lawyer in Des Moines. The telegram was sent early 
next morning, and they then visited Charlie. Flor- 
ence broke down in overwhelming grief when she 
found her brother in short hair and horrid coarse 
clothes, but he put his arms about her and consoled 
her by saying that he would soon be free and then 
he would make a man of himself. 

In the evening a telegram came from Des Moines 
announcing that the Governor had promised, as soon 
as a duplicate petition could be obtained, to issue a 
pardon. This was secured in a few days; Charlie 
Somerville was once more free, and that night three 
rejoicing members of the Somerville family sped 
rapidly over the wide plains of Illinois toward their 
Ohio home. 


CHAPTER II 


ALASKA, ALLIANCE, LOVE, REVELATION 

Harold was somewhat injured in boarding his 
train at Fort Madison, but after dressing the slight 
wounds he swallowed a dose of soothing medicine 
and retired. Sleep would not come; yet not his 
injuries, but those wondrously beautiful brown eyes 
and that face which could not be described — so 
intelligent, so innocent and so pure — kept him 
awake. But after tossing from side to side for an 
hour or more the grateful drug seeped through his 
system and the nervous brain sunk to a sound, 
refreshing slumber. 

Harold Wychoff was a young man of decided 
worth. Born and reared on a farm in Jefferson 
County, Ohio, he had educated himself by teaching 
during the winter and attending Alleghany College 
in spring and fall. After graduating he entered the 
Civil Service examination at Pittsburg, passed with 
a high percentage and received an appointment in 
the Navy Department at Washington. Having 
leisure, he was able to take up the study of medicine, 
all the medical colleges of Washington having night 


14 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


sessions. After three years of hard work he grad- 
uated, and was appointed as surgeon of the United 
States Fur Company in Alaska, at a salary of $1,200 
a year and expenses, for four years, and was en 
route to his far-away post north of Sitka. He had 
intended going by the Union Pacific, but being 
anxious to visit Southern California, had taken the 
Santa Fe route, and thus fell in with the charming 
woman who had already found a place in his heart 
and fully occupied his dreams. 

Arriving duly at the office of the company in San 
Francisco, he sailed the next Saturday, on the 
United States revenue cutter “Bear,” for Sitka, and 
thence to his post on St. Paul Island, in the far- 
away, icy North. There he found a village of five 
hundred natives, together with ten employes of the 
Fur Company, the United States Treasury Agent 
and Count Kolopinski, who was hiding from the 
authorities of Russia. These people were to be his 
patients as well as his companions for the next few 
years. In summer they were visited by members of 
the company from San Francisco, Washington, New 
York, and by the naval vessels of the United States 
on the Pacific Station, as well as the revenue cutters. 
Between these visits there were long periods in 
which there were no more exciting events than the 
death of a native, and in summer the daily pastime 
of watching the seals driven ashore and slaughtered 
by the long poles of the Alaskans, while mentally 
picturing some beautiful and distinguished lady in 


Alaska, Alliance, Love, Revelation 15 

a far-away city wearing the glossy furs. From 
October to May the principal event was living with 
your own conscience, as there was no communication 
with the outer world. 

Harold’s first letter from Alaska was one to 
Florence inquiring about the lost traveling bag. 
In about three months a dainty reply arrived, 
announcing that the bag had not been found, but 
that duplicates of the lost papers enabled her to 
transact the business for which the journey to Fort 
Madison was made. At the close Florence con- 
veyed the thanks of her father and mother for his 
kindness to her at Chicago and on the train, and 
stated that if agreeable to him they would like to 
hear something about his life in Alaska. 

The correspondence thus inaugurated was kept up 
for two years, when Harold became so homesick that 
he forfeited his contract and returned to the States, 
stopping at Alliance on his way East. Mr. and 
Mrs. Somerville insisted that he should leave the 
hotel and become their guest for a few days, which, 
of course, he did with the keenest pleasure. 

It was July. Next morning at breakfast Florence 
suggested : 

“This is commencement day at Mount Union 
College, two miles south of here. Would you like 
to attend, or have you seen so many commencements, 
Dr. Wychoff, that you are tired of them ?” 

“I should be delighted to go, as many of my old 
friends in Ohio were students of Mount Union, and 


16 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


I have heard so much about the institution that I 
shall be quite at home there, I am sure.” 

After breakfast the family strolled about the lawn, 
Mr. Somerville to his favorite corner of rose bushes 
and Charlie and his mother to the vines and ferns, 
while Florence and Harold found a shaded rustic 
bench, where the unique experiences of two years in 
Alaska were discussed until the family carriage was 
announced. Soon they were bowling along the 
broad macadamized road, with electric cars on one 
side and the famous old board-walk on the other, 
chatting of school days, recalling the incidents of 
youth and feeling as if they were once more real 
participants in a commencement. 

Dismissing their carriage at the Judd House, they 
walked across the campus to the college. As they 
found seats in the society room, where all commence- 
ments are held, an awkward youth approached, 
exclaiming : 

“Miss Somerville, I am glad to see you with my 
old friend and teacher, Dr. Wychoff.” 

“Why, Arthur, I am surprised,” said Harold, 
offering his hand. “I thought you were at Lebanon 
Normal School.” 

“So I was, but I found better advantages here, 
where I can select my own curriculum.” 

At this moment Miss Walcott, a student, called 
to Florence : “Miss Somerville, Professor Arm- 
strong wants to see you about the music, in the 
faculty room.” 


Alaska, Alliance, Love, Revelation 17 

“You will excuse me, please,” said Florence, 
pleasantly, and left the room with Miss Walcott, 
followed by the admiring eyes of both Harold and 
Arthur. As soon as she was beyond the door 
of the faculty room Arthur Downing observed, 
fervently : 

“That is one of the loveliest girls in Ohio. Every 
boy in college would give his right arm for her. 
She comes up occasionally to sing for our societies, 
and the boys crowd about her and shower their 
attentions on her, but she repulses their advances in 
that sweet way which makes them love her all the 
more. She does not know that she is pretty, or 
that her manner is irresistibly winning. Every act 
is perfectly natural — no affectation whatever. Do 
you know that she has made a man of her brother, 
who was in the penitentiary at Fort Madison?” 

“What! Was her brother in the Iowa peniten- 
tiary ?” 

“Yes, and she is the one who got him out.” 

“How? Tell me all about it, please.” 

“Well, the judge who sentenced him was a native 
of Steubenville, Ohio, where she met him while at 
the Seminary. Shortly after Charlie’s conviction he 
visited Steubenville, which gave Florence an oppor- 
tunity to relate the truth of her brother’s escapade, 
and to beseech him, in the sweetness of her sincerity, 
to sign a petition for a pardon. The old gentleman, 
completely captivated, said he would do all he could 
for the boy on his return. Immediately upon his 


18 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


arrival in Des Moines he informed Mr. Somerville’s 
lawyer that he would sign a petition for Charlie’s 
pardon provided written evidence of his former good 
character should be produced, and to advise the 
prosecuting attorney and the jury. The evidence 
was easily secured, the required petition was signed 
and the boy was set free.” 

“How good of her; how romantic the story!” 
exclaimed Harold, when Arthur paused. 

“But that is not all,” said Arthur, growing more 
earnest; “when he came home everybody shunned 
him and avoided the whole family. His father and 
mother felt the disgrace so keenly that they simply 
remained at home, but Florence was Charlie’s con- 
stant companion, taking him to church on Sunday 
and among the citizens at other times, although 
people looked at them askance and confined them- 
selves generally to barely speaking or bowing. This 
coldness was hard for Charlie to bear, and he begged 
Florence to let him remain away from church and 
out of the public gaze, but she always reasoned him 
into going again. After a time friends began to 
shake hands with him and be cordial. Under his 
beautiful sister’s perpetual sunshine he grew and 
strengthened, and in time dame rumor declared that 
Charlie Somerville never was a bad boy after all, 
and that his experience had made a man of him. 

“Florence read and chatted with him evenings 
until she engrafted her nature on him in such a way 
that all Alliance thinks he is a promising and trust- 


Alaska, Alliance, Love, Revelation 19 

worthy young man, and there is no family in town 
whose company is more sought than that of the 
Somervilles. Oh, she is a lovely woman, and I only 
wish there were many more like her, that some day 
I might have such a one for my wife, as I know I 
shall never be able to win her in competition with 
such gentlemen of learning and polish as yourself,” 
said Arthur, laughingly but regretfully. “I am on 
a committee, and must now leave you for a few 
moments, but I know Florence will be back soon to 
look after you.” 

Harold, thus suddenly left to himself, did not see 
the happy crowd ; his mind was on Florence and her 
remarkable work during the past two years. He 
loved and respected her more than ever. In a 
moment she returned, saying : 

“I have been consulting with Professor Arm- 
strong about music. They are now ready with the 
program.” 

“You like music, Miss Somerville, or you would 
not be in such demand as a critic,” observed Harold. 

“Yes, I do like music; it is soothing and puts one 
so thoroughly in touch with the finer sentiments of 
the world.” 

Florence was interrupted by a lively air from the 
band, after which Dr. Hartshorn, with his hand to 
the back of his head, came to the front of the stage, 
opened his watch, closed it with a click that could 
be heard all over the room, and announced the first 
speaker. The numbers on the program were soon 


20 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


rendered and the exercises of another commencement 
at an end. 

Florence and Harold drove leisurely back to the 
Somerville residence. Dinner over, the evening 
passed pleasantly, Florence and Charlie entertaining 
Harold and one or two neighbors with music. To 
Harold it was an ideal home ; nothing went wrong ; 
everything moved as if it were run by perfect 
machinery. Yet the peace and pleasure of the day 
were mixed with such ardent thoughts that Harold 
spent rather a restless night. Since Arthur had 
eulogized Florence so highly, the love which had 
been a smoldering passion broke into a conflagration, 
and the determination to ask her to be his wife 
became irresistible. He had only tomorrow for 
that, and a day is so short. But love and insanity 
make the dullest eyes keen. He had seen that 
Florence admired the nervous energy and pluck of 
Arthur Downing, the penniless farmer boy, and felt 
that Arthur would soon be a rival; there must be 
no dangerous delay. 

The morrow came, but brought no better oppor- 
tunity than had been offered during the previous two 
days. Florence was everything that he could wish, 
more than he had ever expected to win, and he was 
getting more madly in love every moment. His 
ticket limited him to three days in Alliance, and this 
was his last day. What should he do? “I will 
propose by letter,” he at last said to himself, con- 
fidently settling the whole matter. 


Alaska, Alliance, Love, Revelation 21 

Harold bade Mr. and Mrs. Somerville adieu 
toward evening, and was driven by Florence and 
Charlie to the Pittsburg, Fort Wayne and Chicago 
station. No opportunity offered there to say more 
than a cordial good-bye, and he was soon speeding 
rapidly toward Washington. The journey was 
without attractions. He was nervous and restless, 
thinking how he could make a proposal by letter, 
and the more he thought the more timid and hesi- 
tating he became. 

In a few weeks he was appointed upon the medical 
staff of a life insurance company, at a good salary, 
and left Washington for Boston. He continued to 
write to Florence, but sometimes she was a little 
tardy in replying; then her father died and the 
correspondence almost ceased. “ I cannot approach 
this subject in a letter/' he finally decided ; “I shall 
be too stiff and formal. I will take my vacation in 
Ohio next summer, and then — ” 


CHAPTER III 

Arthur's fortune in misfortunes 

After commencement had closed Arthur Downing 
left Mount Union for Steubenville with a heavy 
heart. He did not know how he could make money 
enough during the summer to enable him to return 
to college in the fall. Fortunately, at Wellsville, 
where he had to change cars and wait for some time, 
he fell in with a book publisher of Chicago, with 
whom he made a contract to begin work in that city 
on the first of the next month. But how was he to 
get money enough to pay his fare ? Mother did not 
have it ; father could not borrow it ; rich Uncle Joe 
was too stingy to help him; there was nothing on 
the old farm that would sell for spot cash. Appar- 
ently the world’s supply of money had been entirely 
wiped out. 

“Mother, I am going to walk to Chicago — tramp. 
I can do it, and this opportunity to earn my college 
fee for next year must not be neglected,” said 
Arthur, with determination. 

“But, my son, it is over four hundred miles to 
Chicago and you have agreed to be there on the first. 


Arthur’s Fortune in Misfortune 23 

This is the twenty-first — only nine days besides 
today in which to walk four hundred miles; you 
cannot do it — you will fall by the way,” replied his 
mother, in semi-despair. 

“Oh, no. Forty miles a day will fetch me there 
in time, and I can easily make that. Flow much 
change is there in the house ?” 

“Less than $5, all told; but we’ll give you that, 
if you really intend to go, and I’ll prepare some 
luncheon which will piece out your meals along the 
road.” 

At 1 o’clock the lunch was ready; every spare 
penny, amounting to $4.65, was gathered into an 
old leather purse, and Arthur, bidding all an affec- 
tionate good-bye, set out in the best of spirits to 
“foot it” to Chicago. 

At 9 o’clock, having covered thirty miles, he found 
a bowl of rich milk and bread and lodging at a 
friendly farmhouse; also, next morning, a stout 
breakfast, with a little bag of doughnuts for lunch — 
and nothing to pay. 

Several farm wagons, a doctor and a couple of 
traveling peddlers “lifted” him along during the 
ensuing day, and when night came he was eighty- 
five miles from home. His feet were weary and 
swollen, but his store of cash had been reduced only 
five cents — the price of a cup of restaurant coffee. 
The next day was stormy and less agreeable, but by 
helping a crowd of railway builders “pump” a hand 
car forty miles to a wash-out, he added sixty miles 


24 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


to his journey, and stopped at 5 o’clock to rest over 
night. 

The fourth day was one of heroics. The farmers, 
living in a region of tramps, were surly and sus- 
picious; not a passing team offered a friendly “lift,” 
and the roads were rough and heavy. His only 
food was the luncheon brought from home, now 
growing stale and dry, and his shoes were wearing 
patches of skin from his heels and blistering the 
sides of his feet. But all this had no influence on 
Arthur. Removing his shoes and stockings and 
slinging them over his shoulder, he took to the 
muddy middle of the road and bent himself to the 
“stint” of walking the usual forty miles. 

At 5 o’clock, having spanned, he estimated, about 
forty miles, he passed down through a secluded 
valley, at the bottom of which a vine-covered cottage 
hugged the road. Hearing groans, he turned and 
saw a stalwart man stretched on the porch. A gray- 
haired woman was working over him, and a mag- 
nificent horse, saddled, was tied to a post near by. 
At the same instant the woman espied him and called 
out: 

“Be you a-goin’ to No’th Baltimo’ ?” 

“I do not know,” replied Arthur, carefully; “I 
am going to Chicago and will pass through North 
Baltimore if it is on the most direct route. Can I 
do anything for you ?” 

“Wal, yis, that’s on the tow to Chercago, an’ it’s 
a nigh way. My boy Cliff has bruck his laig awful — 


Arthur’s Fortune in Misfortune 25 

in tew places. His blood's a-leavin’ of him swift. 
He can’t ride and I can’t leave him here alone ; sose 
if youse a-goin’ to No’th Baltimo’, jes jump this yere 
mare, the best runner in Ohio, an’ aichin’ fur a race, 
and ram her a-flukin’ through to Dr. Potts’s, in 
Benton street, an’ tell him Cliff Hines is bruck his 
laig and is a-bleedin’ ter death. Doc will keer fer 
ther mare after yer get there. Will yer dew it? 
Kin yer ride, an’ ride like mad — ride as fast as Cliff’s 
blood is a-squirtin’ ?” 

“Yes, I can ride; I will do it,” responded Arthur, 
springing to the back of a mettlesome, clean-limbed 
and rangy Kentucky Morgan horse. “Is the road 
straight ?” 

“Yes, the tow is straight, with a bearin’ to the 
left at Hilborn’s Corner. It’s good fifteen miles, 
but ther tow’s level, and Spikes — that’s ther mare’s 
name — goes over it every Saturday night inside of 
an hour, with tail a-risin’, to fetch the mail. She’s 
the horse of the world or Cliff wouldn’t hev her. 
He keeps her an’ me instid of a wife, an’ he’s purty 
cute, too. \f 

“She’ll leap the gate at Pottses’ in forty-five min- 
utes easy, ef yer let her stop at McCrackin’s troth 
ter get a drink an’ a moufful of grass. She’s hell 
fur speed, an’ she knows I’m dead hurted an’ got ter 
have the Doctor suddint or croak,” said the injured 
man, as the woman dodged out with a mince pie, a 
basin of cream and some cookies for Arthur. 


26 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


Having swallowed the rich beverage, thrust the 
cookies into his pocket and taken the pie in his hand, 
Arthur loosened the tie strap, and Spikes whirled 
into the road with a snort and was away like the 
wind, buckling and stretching with a spirit and 
power that showed that she was indeed “hell for 
speed” and accustomed to do her best. 

“Just 5 :i5,” said Arthur, looking at his old bull’s- 
eye, his body waving backward and forward with 
the long but wonderfully rapid spanning of his 
beautiful horse. At the end of twelve minutes the 
animal, apparently not the least winded, held up 
suddenly at a roadside barrel and sucked a few 
swallows of water, tossed her head and resumed the 
race with a leap. “This must be McCrackin’s 
trough,” thought Arthur, thirteen minutes later, 
noting a watering place close ahead. In a second 
Spikes halted at the trough; Arthur sprang to the 
ground, removed the saddle, tethered the bridle and 
gave the mare her freedom. She was soaked in 
perspiration, but breathing regularly and apparently 
in full strength. 

Taking a sip of water, she retired to a spot where 
the grass had been worn off and rolled over and back 
several times with grunts of the deepest satisfaction. 
Then she took another sip of water and began to 
nip the grass along the fence, while Arthur rubbed 
her briskly with a twist of hay. At 5 145 he threw 
on the saddle and remounted, just as a traveler 
drove up to water his horses. 


Arthur’s Fortune in Misfortune 27 

“How far is it to North Baltimore — to the office 
of Dr. Potts?” asked Arthur. 

“Four and a half miles — just an even ten minutes 
with that mare of Cliff Hines which you are riding. 
She’s the best winded and surest runner in Ohio. 
She’s saved two lives already and has never missed 
her footing,” replied the stranger, proudly and 
knowingly. “She’s worth $25,000 and two lives — ” 
but Spikes was away again, as swift, cheerful and 
powerful as ever, before the stranger could finish 
his praises. 

Arthur was bothered a minute or two in the village 
inquiring for Dr. Potts, but at 6:01 — just forty- 
six minutes and “good fifteen miles” from Hines’ 
Creek — Spikes leaped the gate into the Doctor’s yard 
with “tail a-risin’.” 

Dr. Potts appeared immediately at the door and 
inquired what had happened, for no one had ever 
before seen a stranger riding Spikes. 

Arthur detailed the situation quietly and inquired 
the distance to Chicago. 

“About two hundred and thirty miles,” replied Dr. 
Potts. “Have you a ticket to Chicago ?” 

“No,” said Arthur. 

“Well, my daughter has the return end of a round- 
trip ticket that will expire at midnight. She can’t 
use it, and if you want it you may have it for about 
nothing — say $2.” 

“I will take it, and I am much obliged for your 
kindness in offering it,” replied Arthur, handing out 


28 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


$2, which left $2.15 out of the original $4.65 still in 
his purse. 

“Fortune favors the brave,” he said to himself as 
he walked over to the Baltimore and Ohio station to 
rest, and wait for the Chicago Limited. 

Arriving safely next morning in Chicago, he 
found an agreeable boarding place, and was soon 
earnestly and successfully at work. He had made 
the journey in less than five days, at an expense of 
$2.50 — and saved a life. 


CHAPTER IV 


AFTER THE STORM, “YES” 

One evening toward the close of August a young 
man employed by a railway company was telling at 
dinner, at the house in Chicago where Arthur 
boarded, about finding a traveling bag in the “old 
horse room.” Among other things it contained a 
petition for the pardon of Charles T. Somerville. 

“I know all about that bag, and I know the family 
well,” broke in Arthur, excitedly. “Where is it?” 

Next day, having examined it, he wrote to Mr. 
Somerville about the discovery, and asked if he 
should take the bag with him to Ohio the first week 
in September. A telegram in reply requested him 
to bring it with him to Alliance. 

He arrived on the fifth of September, and was met 
at the door by Florence, who greeted him cordially. 
Mrs. Somerville, good, kind and affectionate, made 
him feel at home, while Florence eagerly examined 
the contents of the bag. Everything was found as 
she had left it more than two years before ; but Mrs. 
Somerville looked sad and not quite herself. 


30 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


“Mother, don’t let us mar the pleasure of having 
Mr. Downing with us by bringing up past sorrows,” 
said Florence, affectionately pressing her cheek to 
her mother’s. 

“You are right, dear child,” said Mrs. Somerville, 
with tears in her eyes, and that was the last heard of 
the bag, or the subject to which the lost papers 
related. 

Arthur, always in a hurry, excused himself and 
boarded the electric car for Mount Union. He 
entered upon his studies with the impetuous energy 
which characterized all his labors, but every Sunday 
found him at church in Alliance, where a kindly 
invitation to take dinner at Mrs. Somerville’s 
invariably awaited him. 

Florence and he became very much interested in 
astronomy, which he was studying for the first time, 
and frequently stars were the chief topic of con- 
versation during the dinner hour. The afternoons 
were occupied with music, little chats with Florence 
and other members of the family, and the return on 
foot to his quarters opposite the Judd House. 
Usually as he departed Florence reminded him that 
he must have a synopsis of his week’s work ready 
for the ensuing Sunday. 

.Thus the fall passed, and as winter descended 
Arthur found himself once more in charge of a 
country school in Jefferson County. 

About this time Mr. Somerville was taken sud- 
denly ill and died. He had been in a degree sue- 


After the Storm, “Yes 


31 


cessful, amassing perhaps sixty thousand dollars, 
which was divided equally among the three heirs. 
Charlie continued the business, and the family 
moved along without change, except that a vacant 
chair at the head of the table was draped in black. 

Arthur returned in May for the summer term, 
taking rooms at Mrs. Kirk’s on Mount Union street, 
where Miss Walcott, a student, and a very dear 
friend of Florence, also had apartments. Between 
attendance at church and visits to Miss Walcott, 
the young people were thrown much together, and 
Florence began to admire more and more Arthur’s 
frank manners, steady energy and manly pluck. 

He had improved very much since their first meet- 
ing. He was losing the awkwardness and stiffness 
which formerly characterized his movements, and 
was becoming quite easy and self-controlled. This 
improvement was due, in great part, to association 
with his altogether delightful little friend, a com- 
panionship which caused much jealousy on the part 
of the students. Eugene Moore, a handsome “swell” 
from Pittsburg, observed to one of his fellow- 
students : 

“I don’t see what that pretty Miss Somerville 
finds to admire in that ugly hayseed from Jefferson 
County. I wish he had remained in Chicago, for 
no one else even has a chance to chat with her while 
he is around.” 

Just before commencement, while Florence was 
visiting Miss Walcott, a sudden hurricane snapped 


32 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


the wires on the electric road between Alliance and 
Mount Union, and hurled limbs and trees across the 
streets. The storm abated at 8 o’clock, and the 
stars peeped out from behind the retreating clouds 
like myriads of diamonds. Florence must go home ; 
otherwise her mother would fear she had been 
injured, perhaps killed, by the gale. The electric 
cars were disabled, and there was nothing to do but 
to walk. 

“But Arthur will be glad to accompany you,” 
suggested Mrs. Kirk, proceeding to his room. 

“With the greatest pleasure, Mrs. Kirk,” he 
exclaimed, rising from his Latin. “I will be down 
in a minute.” 

Soon Florence and Arthur were tripping snugly 
along the board walk, happy as larks, stopping now 
and then to examine the sky or discuss a group of 
stars. When they discovered the “Great Bear” they 
leaned against the fence inclosing Professor Harts- 
horn’s rye field, while Arthur pointed out with his 
cane the several stars which compose it. Florence, 
hanging on his arm with clasped hands, followed 
him as closely as if the outlines of a new world were 
being traced, and they also discussed Mars and the 
probabilities of its being inhabited and of making 
telescopes powerful enough to discover its inhabi- 
tants and their towns and cities. The air of the 
advancing night was becoming chilly, and Florence 
shivered a little. Laying his hand on hers, he said, 
affectionately : 


After the Storm, “Yes” 


33 


“You are cold, Miss Florence; we must hurry.” 

At that moment the light of a lamp they were 
passing enabled him to see anew the full depths of 
those fascinating brown eyes — “the eyes are the 
windows of the soul” — and every nerve tingled with 
love for his charming companion. He drew her 
closely to his side, and pressed her small soft hand 
long and passionately to his lips ; and thus, without 
the utterance of a word, the heart had spoken the 
divine message which no other heart, since the days 
of man, ever misunderstood. 

Before parting that night a new promise had been 
registered in the Book of Love. The lovely mid- 
night walk from Alliance to Mount Union gave 
Arthur abundant time for meditation. He loved 
Florence fondly, truly, deeply, but how could he 
keep a wife? Honesty being a first principle with 
him, he sat down as soon as he arrived at his room, 
and wrote to her that it would be unwise for him to 
propose marriage now, for he would not have a cent 
at the end of the term, and had no prospects of future 
income sufficient to support a wife. 

She replied that with his energy and determina- 
tion success must come soon, and she was willing to 
become his wife, because she loved him, and was 
more than willing to make any sacrifice which the 
future might require. 


CHAPTER V 


REJECTED, DEJECTED, PROMOTED 

On July 1 8th Dr. Wychoff stepped from the train 
at Steubenville, and was met by his father, who 
drove him to the old homestead, which was but a 
few miles from the home of Arthur Downing*, on 
Hickory Ridge. In a few days Arthur arrived, 
having graduated with high honors, to take a well- 
earned vacation. On the same day Harold, having 
completed his visit, was on his way to Alliance, and 
met Arthur. A few pleasant words of greeting 
passed and each continued his journey. 

Harold reached Alliance late in the evening, and 
was received with cordiality by Mrs. Somerville, 
Florence and Charlie. 

Next morning Florence, having attended to some 
household duties, came into the drawing-room, 
where Harold was playing that delightful old 
German song, “Forget Me Not.” 

“Miss Somerville,” he said, rising from the piano, 
“will you not favor me?” 

“Should I, after you have shown yourself to be 
such an accomplished artist?” she inquired, sweetly. 


Rejected, Dejected, Promoted 


35 


“That is the only thing that I can execute at all 
well. I was taught to play it while in Alaska, by 
Count Kolopinski, a highly educated Russian, who 
had spent much time in Germany studying music. 
Now, Miss Somerville, please let us have Schubert’s 
'Serenade.’ ” 

She complied, with that exquisite touch which 
proved her to be a master of music as well as of 
gentle ways and household management. He was 
more charmed than ever with her beauty and her 
lovely manner, and matters came to a sudden climax. 

“Miss Somerville, I have loved you ever since I 
first met you in Chicago, and I have come to ask 
you to be my wife.” Florence met this unexpected 
proposal with exquisite womanliness and sincerity. 

“Dr. Wychoff, I am more sorry than words can 
express to give you pain, but I cannot be your wife.” 
This was said in such a way that Harold knew that 
the answer was final, but the thought flashed through 
his mind that he must ask one more question. 

“Miss Somerville, will you permit me to ask 
whether you have any special reason for this 
decision ?” 

“Yes, Dr. Wychoff, I have. I am engaged to 
Arthur Downing.” 

Unable to reply, he walked to the window and 
looked out on the beautiful lawn. Having rallied 
from the shock a moment later, he turned and found 
Florence had quietly left the room. He at once 
made up his mind to return East, and the first train 


36 Ten Thousand on a Life 

that afternoon on the Pittsburg, Fort Wayne and 
Chicago Railroad carried a passenger whose whole 
future seemed to be blighted. He did not know 
how or when he bade Florence and her mother good- 
bye, only that it was all over, and that the world, 
which but yesterday was all sunshine and beauty, 
now seemed cold, dark and worthless. 

On reaching Washington he spent a few days 
calling on friends, among them many ladies, but 
none seemed so fair, so sweet and so perfect as 
Florence; nor did old friends seem so dear or the 
parks so attractive. The members of the company 
were glad to see him, as he was a genial and obliging 
office companion. 

“Dr. Wychoff,” said President Averill, “we have 
decided to give you the proofs of loss to examine. 
You have ability for discovering frauds, and we have 
suffered severely of late from fraudulent claims. Of 
course, as the work is difficult and important, we 
shall increase your salary; we have added $1,000 per 
year. Here is an Irish claim at Springfield, Mass., 
which we want you to look over. If necessary, go 
in person and hunt up its medical history.” 

“Very well,” said Harold; “I am glad to know 
that I am considered qualified for this branch of the 
business, and certainly grateful for this substantial 
enlargement of my compensation.” 

He went to work on the case, and soon presented 
the facts to the company, which were that the son, 
when he knew that the old gentleman was fatally ill, 


Rejected, Dejected, Promoted 


37 


insured his father’s life for five thousand dollars, 
placing his age at fifty-five instead of seventy-five, 
the agent and the doctor each to have a fat fee for 
making the application as perfect as possible. The 
result was that the agent and doctor migrated to 
Canada and the son took a round trip to the peniten- 
tiary, returnable in five years. 

Entering upon his new branch of work with a 
determination to master it, many were the fraudulent 
cases Harold brought to light, and strong was the 
hold he was securing upon the company. 


CHAPTER VI 


SUCCESS IN BUSINESS AND LOVE 

Arthur Downing spent the summer at his father’s 
farm on Hickory Ridge, helping in the harvest field 
and at the threshing machine. Later, when there 
was less to do on the farm, he whiled away the hours 
under an old cherry tree near the house, reading and 
thinking. The problem to establish himself in a 
business that would yield an income sufficient to 
support Florence was a serious one. Teaching a 
country school produced but little more than enough 
to keep himself, and he could not think of marrying 
without being established in something more per- 
manent and lucrative than country-school teaching. 

He had written to Scio, Unionport and Cadiz, for 
if he could become principal of a school in either 
place, an income of perhaps one hundred dollars per 
month would be assured — enough to support them 
both nicely, for good living is cheap in Ohio country 
towns. 

Answers came that all these schools were taken, 
and Arthur would have been despondent if Florence 
had not continued to send letters which were models 


Success in Business and Love 


39 


of love, faith and courage. In each she urged him 
to take a good long rest, and then he would be better 
able to battle with the world, and that he would 
certainly succeed finally. 

While he was worrying over the future, factors 
were at work which were to take him to Alliance, 
near the one he loved so well, and away from the 
wooden surroundings he had begun to thoroughly 
dislike. 

One day Charlie came to dinner very much dis- 
tressed. “That insolent Sonberg said that I must 
not accuse him of appropriating money for his own 
use when I had spent a term in the ‘pen,’ and I 
discharged him. Mr. Brannon said I did right,” 
Charlie explained to his mother. 

“Poor brother,” said Florence, soothingly, putting 
her arms around his neck, “you must not think about 
the past or your business worries. Let us sit down 
to dinner, for everything is warm and tempting.” 

“Florence, do you know Arthur Downing’s 
address? I was thinking he would make a good 
traveling salesman to take Sonberg’s route,” said 
Charlie after dinner. 

“Yes,” said Florence, blushing; “I will write it 
down for you. I know Arthur would make a good 
salesman ; he is so energetic.” 

That afternoon a letter requesting Arthur to visit 
Somerville & Co., with the object of taking a position 
as traveling salesman, was posted. He arrived 
shortly and was shown through the warehouses, and 


40 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


was taken to the office, where Mr. Brannon, who was 
the “Company,” explained what was expected of a 
traveling salesman, and outlined the route through 
Portage, Columbiana and Stark Counties which 
must be covered. 

When a contract had been signed, Charlie said: 
“Come, Mr. Downing, you must take dinner with 
us to-night. Mother and Florence will be happy to 
have you with us again, I am sure.” 

Arthur was too badly sunburned to show the blush 
brought by the mention of Florence, but he felt that 
all the blood in his body had rushed to his face. 

“Indeed, I am glad to see you, Mr. Downing,” 
said Florence, in the natural, winning way which 
made her always so charming, as she met Arthur at 
the door. “Jefferson County has agreed with you 
this time.” 

The dinner hour was pleasant, almost joyous, and 
the ensuing evening even more so. Old subjects 
were discussed, and Florence and Charlie, with piano 
and violin, entertained delightfully with music. 

“Now, Mr. Downing,” said Charlie, putting his 
violin carefully in its case, “we will ask mother and 
Florence to excuse us, for we must go to the office 
and pack a sample case for your trip through 
Portage County.” 

“Can’t you pack the sample case in the morning, 
and not drag Mr. Downing away before we have had 
a fair glimpse of him ?” inquired Florence, coaxingly. 


Success in Business and Love 


41 


“I am very sorry, sister, but we are two weeks 
behind now. However, we will have Mr. Downing 
over often when he gets regularly to work.” 

Good-nights were said, and Charlie and Arthur 
hurried away to the store. Florence returned to the 
piano, but was restless and unsatisfied — the music 
had no attractions. Presently she slipped over to 
her mother, and, leaning on the arm of her chair, 
said: 

“Mother, I improperly have been keeping a secret 
from you ; forgive me.” 

“You have always been a good daughter, and I 
cannot think my little girl has done any wrong. Tell 
me, Florence, what it is.” 

“I am engaged to Arthur Downing,” said she, 
smoothing back her mother's hair, and imprinting an 
affectionate kiss on her forehead. 

“I am surprised, Florence, for you knew he had 
no prospects beyond those of a country school 
teacher. I like Arthur Downing very much and 
admire his pluck in educating himself, but I should 
not like to see my daughter marry a man with no 
greater income than he is likely to have for the next 
few years. I thought perhaps you would marry Dr. 
Wychoff.” 

“Of course, I admire Dr. Wychoff, but, dear 
mother, I love Arthur Downing. I see no reason 
why he should not, in a few years, be reasonably 
prosperous. You say you like him, and your only 
objection to him is that he is poor. That is the 


42 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


mercenary view, but it is not the one which will 
bring most happiness to me,” looking pleadingly into 
her mother’s eyes. “You would not deprive me of 
happiness for any amount of money, would you, 
mother ?” 

“No, my child, your happiness is always my first 
aim, and in objecting to Arthur Downing I had in 
view your future welfare. But let us drop the sub- 
ject, my dear; we may consider it at another time.” 

Florence kissed her mother good-night with even 
more than the usual fondness, and retired to her 
chamber, where she spent many hours crying before 
sleep came to assuage her grief. She could not give 
up Arthur, yet her mother’s solicitude caused much 
serious thought as to what the future might have in 
store for her. 


CHAPTER VII 


MAMA SOMERVILLE RELENTS 

Arthur traveled over his territory, making friends, 
but at first Without decided success as a salesman. 
Later he began to get larger orders, and to sell to 
more new firms than any of his predecessors. Pie 
was in high favor at the store, and he and Charlie 
were becoming fast friends. 

Mrs. Somerville had another talk with Florence 
about the engagement, but seemed no nearer being 
reconciled than at first, and Florence, instead of 
changing her mind, was more determined than ever 
to marry the man of her choice. 

Mrs. Somerville did not forbid Arthur to come to 
the house, but advised Florence not to encourage his 
visits. Arthur and Florence talked the matter over, 
and found their love for each other only increased 
by opposition. They planned ways of holding secret 
meetings every week when Arthur returned from his 
trips, but both felt guilty of infringing the wishes of 
a kind, indulgent and honorable mother, and always 
met and parted under more or less restraint. Charlie 
finally learned of the engagement, and said to his 
mother : 


44 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


“Let the girl marry him, if it is her choice. He 
is a clever fellow, though, of course, not just the 
man I had looked forward to as a brother-in-law. 
He is succeeding admirably on the road, and is 
becoming a very useful man to us. He is honorable 
and will always be doing better instead of worse, so 
give Florence her choice is my judgment.” 

“Well, I suppose I will have to agree to it,” said 
his mother, leaving the room, very much troubled. 

Next morning Mrs. Somerville came into the 
library, saying: “Come, daughter, I wish to talk 
with you a little about Mr. Downing.” 

Florence dropped her music and was soon at her 
mother’s side, but with a feeling of dread that a 
decided stand in opposition was to be taken. 

“After talking with Charlie, I have decided to 
withdraw my objections to Arthur. I shall always 
feel that you were wrong in making this engage- 
ment, but rather than destroy any happiness that you 
may fancy is in store for you, I shall consent and do 
all I can to promote your welfare and enlarge that 
happiness.” 

“My dear, good mother, I am so glad, for Arthur 
is so noble and honorable, and I have felt so badly 
since I first told you and heard your objections, that 
I did not seem to be myself. I was just beginning 
to realize the great trials through which I must pass. 
It did not seem possible to give up Arthur, and I felt 
it equally impossible to cause my dear, patient mother 

• ff 


Mama Somerville Relents 45 

All that day Florence filled the house with her 
music and sunshine, and Mrs. Somerville said to 
herself — for she was happy when her beloved 
daughter was happy — “perhaps it is better so.” 

“Well, Arthur, you are having a big trade; we 
have been filling heavy orders for you every day,” 
said Charlie, as Arthur came into the office from his 
week's trip. 

“I have had good luck except in one instance.” 

“What is that?” 

“Well, Sam Craig, at Salienville, made an assign- 
ment the day after you filled his order for $320, 
which I sent you on Monday. We are in for it 
there, as rumor says he will be able to pay only 
twenty per cent.” 

“That is unfortunate, but we will do the best we 
can and immediately make our claims. This will 
give you some points on assignments and teach you 
to keep a sharp watch on other customers. Here are 
some letters for you.” 

Arthur looked them over, opening first the one he 
knew to be from Florence. It was short, but joyous, 
asking him to come at his earliest opportunity, as her 
mother had relented. In the excess of his exuber- 
ance he forgot all about the other letters, Sam 
Craig's assignment and his various tribulations. 

This was a very happy evening for Arthur and 
Florence. They did not remain in the house, but 
took a long stroll, and finally boarded an electric car 


46 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


for Mount Union to call on Miss Walcott, who had 
returned for the fall term. 

“It looks like old times to be in Mrs. Kirk’s 
parlors,” said Arthur, “I almost feel like going up 
to my room to study.” 

“It has been old times about the college today,” 
replied Miss Walcott, “as four of the boys were 
called before the faculty for putting one of Professor 
Armstrong’s calves in the belfry of the college and 
tying its tail to the bell rope. Some of the students 
at the ‘Saints’ Rest’ suggested that it was Charlie 
Miller and three other students rooming with him, 
and they were ordered before the faculty to-day.” 

“It is a pity that keg of powder did not blow up 
the ‘Saints’ Rest,’ ” said Arthur, earnestly. 

“I never heard of the ‘Saints’ Rest,’ ” said Flor- 
ence; “what is it?” 

“It is a house which stands on the hill several rods 
back from Mount Union street, and not more than 
a square from here. It has been occupied for several 
years by a number of pious young men, who keep 
bachelor’s hall and are educating themselves for the 
ministry. Whenever a joke is perpetrated some one 
of these ‘reformers’ tattles to the faculty, and the 
suspected or accused party is called to answer the 
charge. It has been a bone of contention between 
the faculty and the students for several years. An 
attempt was made to blow it up with a keg of powder 
under the stoop, but the discharge was in the wrong 
direction and only tore up the sod in the yard. It 


Mama Somerville Relents 47 

was reported at the time that one of the ‘Saints' told 
Professor Chapman that a meteor fell in the yard." 

“We need something to enliven us occasionally," 
interjected Miss Walcott, “as the constant grind over 
dull textbooks is very wearing. Last term we 
laughed for a week over the stealing of Professor 
Hartshorn’s favorite mummy and its burial in the 
school yard, with a headboard and Latin inscription 
suitable to the occasion." 

She then surprised Florence by relating how 
Arthur had helped to carry John McCall’s trunk to 
the home of his best girl, a mile in the country, with 
a give-way letter on it addressed to her father, after 
which the happy callers set out for Alliance over the 
board-walk, as they had done a memorable July 
night over a year before. 

“I am going to build a monument here when I get 
rich," said Arthur, as he halted by the board fence 
where he and Florence had stood looking at Mars 
after the storm of a year ago. 

“May I contribute?" inquired Florence, with a 
twinkle in her eyes. 

“Yes — but here comes a car, and it is the last one." 

Arriving home, Mrs. Somerville chatted pleasantly 
for half an hour, and then retired to leave the joyous 
young couple to themselves. Before parting that 
night they arranged the wedding day, which was to 
be in June following, and then Arthur crossed the 
city to his lodgings, the happiest man in Ohio, or, 
as he thought, in the world. 


48 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


The business of Somerville & Co. increased, and 
Arthur’s territory was extended to include a portion 
of Carroll County. Arthur and Charlie worked 
incessantly for the success of the firm, often spending 
many late hours at the store, talking and planning. 
In this way they became strong friends, and Charlie 
often said to his mother, who, however, dismissed 
the subject as soon as possible : “Florence was not 
mistaken in her selection of a husband.” 


CHAPTER VIII 

HAROLD AND FLORENCE SURPRISE EACH OTHER 

The winter passed swiftly and happily, and the 
wedding day was drawing near. Florence and her 
mother were in Cleveland selecting the wedding out- 
fit, stopping at the Forest City Hotel. On Sunday 
morning they came down late and found the break- 
fast room crowded. Only one table had vacant 
chairs, and that was where two gentlemen were 
seated with their backs to the dining-room entrance, 
facing beautiful Lake Erie, whose silvery billows 
were rolling and tumbling in the morning sun. 
While Harold Wychoff and Mr. Banall, the inspector 
of the Royal Life Company, had come down to 
breakfast an hour before, they still lingered at the 
table, the scene before them being too attractive and 
soothing to be easily abandoned. 

Harold had changed some, having now a full Van 
Dyke beard, which was becoming, although a sprink- 
ling of gray hairs, in striking contrast to the black, 
added several years to his appearance. 

The usher pulled back the two vacant chairs, and 
politely seated Mrs. Somerville at the end of the 


50 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


table opposite Harold, and Florence at the side 
facing Mr. Banall. They noticed merely that two 
gentlemen were at the table, but did not take a 
second glance at them. However, as Mrs. Somer- 
ville raised her eyes to give her order they met those 
of Harold Wychoff in mutual recognition. 

“Good morning, Dr. Wychoff. This is a pleasant 
surprise, I assure you.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Somerville; this is indeed an 
unexpected pleasure,” exclaimed Harold, blushing 
like a school girl and springing hastily to her side to 
shake hands. 

He then turned to Florence, but rather hesitated. 

“Good morning, Dr. Wychoff,” she said, grace- 
fully putting forth her hand and looking directly and 
confidently into his eyes. 

He repeated her greeting, but in a rather uncertain 
way — neither cold nor with the warmth which old 
friends show when meeting unexpectedly. He felt 
at once the same influence, as he looked into the 
beautiful brown eyes, which had attracted him when 
he first met her in Chicago, but it was a feeling of 
regret — regret that they had ever met. 

Resuming his seat, he introduced Mr. Banall, 
which he had almost forgotten to do. Mr. Banall 
directed his attention chiefly to Florence, seemingly 
forgetting every one else about him, while Mrs. 
Somerville and Harold carried on a lively conversa- 
tion. She was very cordial, and he could see that 
she was his friend, but he was uneasy, nervously 


Harold and Florence Surprise Each Other 51 

putting his knife and fork from side to side, until he 
could stand the strain no longer. Rising and 
bowing particularly to Mrs. Somerville, he said : 

“I trust you will pardon our haste; we have an 
engagement to go to Lake View Cemetery to visit 
President Garfield’s tomb.” 

“I hope we shall see you again before you leave 
the city,” responded Mrs. Somerville, sincerely. 

“Thank you ; we shall be here at least tomorrow, 
but after that may be called away at any moment.” 

When out of hearing of the two ladies Banall 
inquired : “Why did you leave so soon ? It is an 
hour before we are to meet Davis. By Jove! that 
is the most fascinating girl I ever met, and I wanted 
to talk to her longer.” 

“I am sick and must go to my room,” replied 
Harold, putting his hand to his head and leaning 
against the elevator shaft. “After I have taken 
some medicine and had an hour’s rest I will be all 
right. Let me lie down till Davis comes.” 

Pacing the floor of his room, he muttered : “Oh ! 
why did I meet this woman? I would give all I 
possess to make her my wife, yet she would not 
marry me if I owned the United States. Love is 
simply madness — uncontrollable madness, but I 
never knew it before.” 

Walking the floor brought no relief; he would go 
out and mingle with the crowd and thus perhaps 
enable himself to forget that face. He walked down 
Superior street, and then to the Lake Shore railway 


52 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


depot, where, looking over the high wall east of that 
long, black structure, he recalled the epileptic he had 
seen several years before fall in a sudden fit to the 
cobble stones sixty feet below. He shuddered as 
the picture of that bleeding mass of humanity re- 
appeared in his mind, but regretted that the dead 
man had not been himself. The next thought was 
more manly, more reasonable and resolute, and he 
turned and walked quickly to the hotel, whence, with 
Mr. Davis and Mr. Banall, he was soon bowling 
along Euclid avenue, with its six miles of magnifi- 
cent residences — “six miles of magnificent misery,” 
said Davis, because there was so much domestic un- 
happiness in many of these splendid palaces. 

On returning to the hotel, after visiting Garfield’s 
splendid tomb, Mr. Banall seized Harold by the arm 
and exclaimed, earnestly : “Doctor, I cannot forget 
that young lady we met this morning. She is cer- 
tainly one of the most beautiful, most fascinating 
creatures I ever saw. But what would Mrs. Banall 
say if she heard me raving over the beauties of a 
young girl ?” 

“There would be ‘magnificent misery’ at 618 
Beacon street,” dryly replied Harold, who was plan- 
ning to avoid meeting Florence and her mother. 
He was uneasy all the time, fearing at every turn 
that he might encounter them. After tea he induced 
Mr. Banall to stroll about the city, thus making 
escape certain. 


Harold and Florence Surprise Each Other 53 

Next morning he came down to breakfast very 
early, ate his meal hurriedly and left for the office 
to wait for Banall. They completed their business 
before night, and returned over the Lake Shore to 
Boston, Harold happy that he had been spared the 
ordeal of again meeting and parting with Florence. 

In a few days he was again looking over heights, 
weights, pulse-rates and family histories, and giving 
judgment as to whether applicants were good risks 
for the company to assume. 

Banall came into his room frequently to talk about 
the beautiful young lady they saw at the Forest City 
Hotel, but Harold usually said little, and turned the 
conversation to some other subject as soon as 
possible. 


CHAPTER IX 


TEARS ON THE WEDDING JOURNEY 

“How handsome Dr. Wychoff looks with a full 
beard,” said Mrs. Somerville after Harold and Mr. 
Banall had gone; “and he seems to be so noble and 
dignified, too.” 

“Mother, please do not speak about him,” said 
Florence, putting both hands to her face. “You 
know it pains me to think of what I had to do, and 
the more so since his conduct this morning was so 
appropriate and gentlemanly. I hope we shall not 
meet him again.” 

“Pardon me, daughter ; I shall never refer to him 
again in your presence,” replied Mrs. Somerville, 
earnestly, as Florence lifted her handkerchief to wipe 
away the gathering tears. 

After breakfast they attended the nearest church, 
and returned to the hotel to spend the remainder of 
the day in seclusion in order to avoid meeting Dr. 
Wychoff. The next few days were occupied with 
purchases of beautiful things for the coming wed- 
ding, and passed swiftly and pleasantly — especially 
as they had learned that Dr. Wychoff had left the 
city on Monday. 


Tears on the Wedding Journey 55 

The coming marriage of Florence Somerville was 
the talk of Alliance and Mount Union, for her name 
was a household word in both places. It was 
thought strange by many that she should marry 
Arthur, a poor young salesman, who had nothing 
to recommend him but his education. “But,” ex- 
plained this class, “there is no accounting for the 
whims of a young girl.” Others exclaimed : “What 
a simpleton ! Why didn’t she marry Tom Marshall, 
who is rich and could have given her anything she 
wanted ?” 

The wedding day arrived, and the First Presby- 
terian Church was filled to overflowing. After the 
ceremony came the wedding breakfast at the old 
homestead, and Florence and Arthur started, ’mid 
a shower of rice and old shoes, on their wedding 
journey, overflowing with happiness. 

First they visited Washington, where they climbed 
the dome of the Capitol to the Whispering Gallery, 
which Florence remembered Harold had described. 
The old vender of souvenirs, seeing they were a 
bridal couple, waited until they were in the proper 
place, and whispered : 

“Have you said your prayers this morning?” 

This seemed supernatural, and they looked at 
each other in astonishment. Again the whisper : 

“Attend to your devotions ; you may die before the 
close of the year.” 

This unnatural sound, coming apparently out of 
the walls of the great dome, certainly could not be 


56 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


the voice of a human being. Half frightened, they 
looked in every direction, but could see no one save 
the old vender, directly opposite, a hundred feet or 
more away. Ostensibly, he was busy arranging his 
books, but he was really watching the movements of 
the young couple, as he had done many times before. 
Not a little disturbed, they had turned away from 
the horrid whispers to the highest point of the dome, 
and were soon enraptured with the scene before 
them. Almost at their feet lay the Mall and the 
beautiful Botanical Gardens; beyond, the Army 
Medical Museum, the National Museum, the Smith- 
sonian Institution and the Agricultural Department 
and farther away, near the Potomac, arose the 
magnificent Washington Monument. Looking up 
Pennsylvania avenue people, vehicles and cars seemed 
like little moving dots, and more than a mile away 
were the Treasury, the White House and the State, 
War and Navy buildings. The picture was grand 
and imposing; what vast stores of relics these 
structures must contain, and what sacred memories 
clung about them. 

Florence was in glee, and was reluctant to leave 
the enchanting view. She declared she could remain 
in Washington for years and not tire of the beautiful 
sights, or weary of contemplating the sacred mem- 
ories which clustered about every nook and corner. 
Arthur appreciated the surrounding beauty, but 
looked at it from a business standpoint. 


Tears on the Wedding Journey 


57 


“Washington would be a delightful home for one 
possessing an abundance of money to keep pace with 
all this splendor,” he said. 

“I am sure,” replied Florence, “there must be some 
poor people here, and certainly they can enjoy the 
beauties about us as well as the rich.” 

“It is to be hoped they do; but I know from 
experience that when one does not know where his 
next suit of clothes is to come from, no beauties of 
nature or trickeries of art can make him happy. 
They seem rather to mock him in his misery. No, 
Florence, let us hope for a competency where we can 
live free from anxieties about tomorrow, .regardless 
of grand buildings, splendid parks and gay and 
fashionable avenues.” 

“I know, Arthur, you are right ; but how much I 
would like to have the competency which would 
enable us to live here and enjoy these many beautiful 
things. Oh, I have always wanted to live in Wash- 
ington !” 

Having done the city as best they could in a few 
days, they left for Asbury Park, New Jersey, where 
they stopped at the Coleman House. Each morning 
at eleven, accompanied by Mrs. Bates, whom they 
had met at the Elsmere in Washington, they moved 
slowly down the beach to First avenue to take a dip 
in the ocean. It was their first experience at the 
seashore, and Mrs. Bates, one of those demure-faced, 
pretty Washington “grass widows” with a history, 
was showing them the ways of summer society. As 


58 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


they passed, one Washington lady said to another : 
“There is Mrs. Bates with that pretty, innocent, 
young bride in tow. What would the young 
woman’s mother say if she knew the history of that 
woman ?” 

“I think she would be looking after the son-in-law 
rather than the daughter,” observed another, sar- 
castically. 

The next morning as Arthur came into the hotel 
office Mrs. Bates was leaning against the counter 
with bewitching grace. She was really beautiful, 
and understood the art of showing her beauty to the 
best advantage, and of making others, especially 
gentlemen, think she was the sweetest woman in the 
world. 

“Mr. Downing, I was just waiting for some one 
to escort me to the West End Hotel to see some 
friends,” said she, in a confident and captivating 
manner. 

“With pleasure, Mrs. Bates, after I have notified 
Mrs. Downing, so she will know where I have gone.” 

“That is not necessary ; we shall be back in fifteen 
minutes, especially if we go at once, before my 
friends get to the beach.” 

Swayed by this woman’s strange magnetism, as 
many men had been before him, he was on the way 
to the West End before he knew it. Soon she had 
him completely under control, and they returned to 
the hotel across the lawn talking and laughing as 
earnestly and freely as old friends. 


Tears on the Wedding Journey 59 

Florence, in the meantime, came down, and not 
finding Arthur in the parlors or on the piazza, seated 
herself in a large wicker chair, whence she saw her 
husband and Mrs. Bates gayly crossing the lawn. 
Her eyes flashed, the blood mounted to her cheeks, 
and she was about to return to her room, when a 
second thought admonished her to stay and hear 
whatever explanation might be made. 

“Mr. Downing was kind enough to escort me 
down to the West End to see some friends of mine,” 
explained Mrs. Bates, cheerily. “It is now eleven; 
I will go up at once and prepare for the beach.” 
With a sweet smile and a pretty nod she hurried 
past to her room. 

Arthur had not noticed his wife’s changed appear- 
ance, as he was unconscious of wrong ; but when she 
spoke the voice revealed her feelings. 

“Arthur, come with me to the room,” she said, 
quite sternly. 

When the door was closed she continued : “Arthur, 
why do you pay that woman so much attention, and 
why did you accompany her without telling me ?” 

“She asked me to go with her to see her friends. 
I said I would after telling you where I was going, 
but she insisted we should be absent but fifteen min- 
utes, and almost forced me along. Come, Florence, 
dear, don’t cry,” putting his arms around her and 
pressing his lips to her cheek. “I assure you that is 
all there is to the matter. Forgive me, if I have done 
wrong.” 


60 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


Florence only buried her face deeper and sobbed 
louder. Arthur was nonplussed. He walked to the 
window and then back again. By this time she had 
thrown herself face downward on the pillow and was 
crying in good earnest. 

“Florence, my dear wife, you must know that I 
love you better than any woman in the world, and I 
would do anything for you. Say you forgive me, 
for I am very unhappy.” 

“I will,” said Florence, “if you will leave this 
horrid place at once.” 

“At once it shall be,” he exclaimed, lifting her in 
his arms and kissing her many times. 

They took the noon train for Sandy Hook, and 
went from there by boat to New York. A novel 
sight to both was New York Bay. Coming in from 
Fire Island were the great ocean liners, and about 
them scores of little tugs screaming and panting 
about like mad, all intermingled with myriads of 
ferries, canal boats, Sound steamers, and North 
River freighters. In the distance hung the Brooklyn 
Bridge, connecting the two great cities like a balance. 
Under the influence of this busy and attractive 
panorama they forgot their first matrimonial jar, 
and landed at the quiet and exclusive St. Denis Hotel 
in New York as happy as if misunderstandings 
were an impossibility. 

At the end of a few days of successful sight- 
seeing, their bills being paid and baggage checked, 
there remained three or four hours before train time. 


Tears on the Wedding Journey 61 

“Oh, let us go to the Eden Musee,” said Florence. 
“A lady on the boat said we must not leave New 
York until we had spent at least an hour there,” and 
away they skipped for the Sixth Avenue Elevated 
Railroad. 

‘‘Will you tell us the location of the Eden Musee?” 
asked Arthur of an officer as they came down from 
the Elevated at .Twenty-third street. 

“About half a block, on the north side of Twenty- 
third street. You can see it from here,” said he, 
pointing to the building. 

“Let us ask this policeman,” said Florence as they 
stepped into the vestibule, “if we will have time to go 
through the place and reach our train at five o’clock.” 

“Mr. Officer, will we have time to see everything 
of interest here and reach the five o’clock train on 
the New York Central?” 

The policeman did not reply or move, but seemed 
to be looking intently at the ticket window. 

“Speak a little louder, Arthur; perhaps the poor 
man is deaf,” suggested Florence. 

Going a little closer, Arthur raised his voice: 
“Mr Officer, will we — why, Florence, that is a wax 
figure !” In some confusion they walked quickly to 
the ticket window, while those who saw the incident 
were trying to suppress their mirth. After passing- 
inside they both laughed heartily at the deception. 

“I would like to see the Chamber of Horrors,” 
said Arthur. 


62 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


“I would not, and I will rest in this chair until you 
return,” with a smile which meant that she knew he 
would not stay long. 

Sitting quietly, apparently looking at the floor, 
but with thoughts busy with Asbury and the future, 
she formed a lovely picture and was the object of 
many an admiring glance, visitors believing her to 
be the wax figure of some beautiful woman. 

Presently an old gentleman stopped in front of 
her, to show his appreciation of a beautiful face, 
when she raised her eyes to his and burst into a 
laugh. He departed precipitately, exclaiming to his 
wife : “Come on, Martha, Fve got ’em ! I knowed 
these ’ere New York drinks wouldn’t agree with me. 
I expect I’ll be seein’ snakes next ! Come on ! come 
on !” he shouted, brushing his way rapidly through 
the crowd at the door. 


CHAPTER X 


MISFORTUNES PROVIDING AGAINST DEATH 

j 

The wedding journey, redolent of memories which 
time could never efface, ended where it began, at 
Alliance. Florence and Arthur were to occupy the 
old Somerville home with Charlie and Mrs. Somer- 
ville, and the firm name was to read “Somerville, 
Downing & Co.” 

A few weeks later, while the family were seated 
on the rustic benches of the lawn, fire-bells began 
to ring with unusual vigor, and a murky blaze shot 
up over intervening buildings in the direction of the 
Somerville warehouses. Knowing their store was 
involved, Charlie and Arthur bounded over the fence 
and in a few minutes were doing their utmost to save 
the buildings from destruction. They were not 
completely ruined, but the merchandise was practi- 
cally destroyed by fire and water. 

Charlie and Arthur were both exhausted by their 
violent and long-sustained efforts, and the latter was 
unable to leave his bed for a week. Having recov- 
ered, he made unusual efforts on the road to enlarge 
their trade, and recoup the heavy losses resulting 


64 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


from the fire. But as he had not recovered com- 
pletely when he took the road, he did not seem to 
improve in health, as his youth and apparent vigor- 
ous constitution would indicate that he should do. 
Dyspepsia, languor, and at times unquenchable thirst 
were the symptoms of his depressing indisposition. 
In Canton an old college friend, Marion Doyle, sug- 
gested consulting Dr. Glenmore, a young prac- 
titioner who was thoroughly in love with his pro- 
fession and having splendid success. 

Arthur asked for a thorough examination, which 
Dr. Glenmore gave to him, including a careful 
chemical analysis. At the end of the consultation, 
the young doctor, among other things, directed his 
patient to take as much rest as possible, confine 
himself to a certain diet, of which he gave him a 
list, and to return home. Arthur, feeling much 
exhausted and depressed, without learning how he 
was afflicted, accepted the Doctor’s advice, and took 
the first train for Alliance. 

Florence was out calling when he arrived. He 
was not only feeling ill, but blue, and went directly 
to his room. Florence had arranged differently the 
paintings, bric-a-brac and furniture in his absence — 
the adornments they both loved so well, and which 
never seemed so dear and beautiful before. Going 
to the couch, he threw himself on it, and murmured, 
woefully: “Oh, God! why should I now be pun- 
ished by disease and perhaps death ? I have lived a 
just and upright life, and it is hard to think of pass- 


Misfortunes — Providing Against Death 65 

ing to the next world just as I reach the threshold of 
success in this. Can it be that my great ambition 
will end in an early grave ? Oh, what would become 
of Florence !” and he burst into a fit of weeping 
which convulsed his whole frame. 

Arthur had a strong will, and after this storm had 
subsided he bathed his face in cold water and lay 
down to sleep. His eyes would not close; he was 
restless and irritable. He remembered that he had 
some tablets which used to induce sleep when at 
Mount Union, and, swallowing one, was soon fast 
asleep. 

When Florence returned she was surprised to find 
him at home, and going quickly to the couch put 
both arms around him, inquiring anxiously : “Are 
you sick, Arthur?” 

Although sleepy and dazed, he returned her 
affectionate embrace, saying: “Yes, dear, I was 
feeling bad and went to a doctor in Canton. He 
told me to come home and rest a few days ; and you 
see,” said he, laughing, “I have obeyed his instruc- 
tions.” 

“I am glad you came home, for now I can be your 
doctor. What can I do for you ?” 

“Nothing, my sweetheart. I will get up soon, as 
I am feeling much better since I had such a good 
sleep.” 

“What do you think of our room?” inquired 
Florence, glancing around admiringly. “You see I 
have made a complete change.” 


66 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


“I see you have; but I like the old way better. 
Old friends, like wine, grow better as they grow 
older. These changes make new friends of every- 
thing here, and it takes a long time to get used to 
the idiosyncrasies of our new acquaintances.” 

“I shall put everything back in its accustomed 
place tomorrow,” she replied, quickly. 

“No, dear, leave them as they are. I like my 
couch here by the window better than in that dark 
corner, even if the whole arrangement does look 
strange to me. Florence, I # believe you can do 
something for me. Please fetch a good, big glass 
of well water ; I am very thirsty.” 

“Yes, I will bring you a big pitcher full,” she said, 
merrily. 

Arthur remained in the house for a few days, 
following closely the directions given him by the 
young doctor. Each day showed an improvement, 
and it was not long before he was as bright and 
cheerful as ever. In less than a week he began to 
go to the office regularly, doing as much work as 
usual and preparing to take the road on the following 
Monday. 

Saturday morning an insurance agent came to the 
office to talk insurance to Charlie and Mr. Brannon, 
and of course approached Arthur, who at once 
showed a deep interest. The agent began by saying : 

“Now, Mr. Downing, the Royal Life Company is 
doing business on the natural premium plan. We 
charge you just what insurance costs, with a small 


Misfortunes — Providing Against Death 67 

amount for expenses added. We load the American 
experience table with sufficient to make our company 
safe, and then with the accumulation of a reserve 
fund we are absolutely certain of paying claims for 
all time.” 

“Have you an endowment feature to your insur- 
ance ?” inquired Arthur, running hastily over the 
leaflet of the Royal Life. 

“No, we have not, for endowments and tontines 
are delusions and snares. None but what we call 
‘old line’ or ‘level premium’ companies have those 
features, and when you dissect and bring to view 
the elements of which life insurance is made up, you 
will at once see that endowments do not properly 
belong to life insurance. There are really but two 
items — the death losses and the cost of doing busi- 
ness — but we add for an emergency a reserve fund 
to make everything absolutely safe. The endow- 
ment companies charge you all these items, with a 
large sum added for the endowment feature. A 
part only of this additional sum they pay back in 
fifteen or twenty years, without interest. In other 
words, they take a sum of money from you, keep 
and use it for years, and return it without interest. 
Now, I say, Mr. Downing, wouldn’t it be better to 
keep this money in your own business and gain a 
profit from it, rather than to give it to an insurance 
company to keep for you ?” 

“What will five thousand dollars cost me at the 
age of twenty-eight ?” 


68 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


“It will cost you eighty-seven dollars and fifty 
cents per year; but,” said the wily agent, “you would 
better take ten thousand ; then I can make a reduc- 
tion on the first payment.” 

“Very well, write it up,” said Arthur, decisively. 

The agent’s part of the application was completed, 
and then he said : “I would like to have you go to 
Dr. Goss this evening for the medical examination.” 

“Suppose you say tomorrow evening.” 

“Want to consult that pretty little wife?” 

“Don’t you think a man ought to consult his wife 
about such matters?” 

“Certainly, certainly, Mr. Downing.” 

When he went to dinner that day, Florence said : 
“Arthur, you are so jubilant to-day. How glad I 
am to see you as you used to be.” 

“I believe I am feeling better to-day, mentally as 
well as physically,” he replied. 

The next evening Arthur submitted to the medical 
examination, which was completed except the chem- 
ical analysis. On the following morning the whole 
was completed and mailed to the company. 


CHAPTER XI 


Harold's heart struggles with his head 

Dr. Wychoff, at the home office of the Royal Life 
Company in Boston, was very much astonished to 
find Arthur Downing, whom he knew a few years 
before to be a penniless youth, insuring his life for 
ten thousand dollars. Observing that Florence S. 
Downing was the beneficiary, he leaned back in his 
large revolving chair, holding the application un- 
folded on his lap, and thought over the past, the 
present and the future ; and his thoughts were any- 
thing but happy. 

“Shall I pass on this application, or leave it for 
Dr. Bowman ?” he inquired of himself. 

At last he thought he had solved the problem. 
He would underscore a number of the answers which 
were not entirely satisfactory and leave it for Dr. 
Bowman, who, as the medical director and head of 
the department, was always consulted about difficult 
questions. 

Harold felt that it was not quite right that Arthur 
should take so much insurance, as he knew his salary 
could not be sufficient to support a wife and pay the 


70 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


premiums. He concluded finally, however, that it 
was a boyish caprice, which he could explain to Dr. 
Bowman with the suggestion that the applicant 
would, no doubt, allow part or all of the policy to 
lapse before the end of the first year. 

Dr. Bowman and Harold went over the applica- 
tion together, the latter explaining what he knew 
about Arthur, his family history, his health and his 
probable income. At first Dr. Bowman was inclined 
to reject the application. Harold thought of Flor- 
ence and the soft brown eyes and the sweet face that 
had been before him so long — and recalled also the 
loss that Somerville & Co. had recently sustained. 
No, he could not see her reduced to poverty in the 
event of Arthur’s death by accident, so he renewed 
the argument that the applicant probably would let 
part of it, or perhaps all of it, lapse before the year 
closed, and that any amount paid to the company 
would be clear gain. Dr. Bowman was mercenary, 
and this argument touched his heart. 

The application was signed — first by Dr. Bowman 
and then by Harold — and a policy issued. 


CHAPTER XII 


death's terrifying methods 

When the insurance policy came and Arthur 
wanted to draw money for the first payment, Mr. 
Brannon, who was the watch dog of the funds, said : 
“Arthur, you should not cripple the firm at this time 
by such heavy withdrawals. Every cent is needed 
to push the business." 

“I know, Mr. Brannon ; but while this payment is 
heavy the other payments will be small bi-monthly 
amounts that will scarcely be noticed." 

“I protest against this extravagance, and you will 
not get the money with my consent," responded 
Brannon. 

“I have made the contract to carry this insurance, 
and I mean to keep it," said Arthur, decisively. 

“If you must have it, I will issue the check, but I 
do not do it willingly," said Brannon, more con- 
siderately. 

The check was issued and the first payment was 
made, Arthur feeling deeply that he had done his 
duty toward his wife in the midst of extreme finan- 
cial distress by providing against the uncertainty of 
life. 


72 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


He made heroic efforts to introduce the firm in 
Carroll County, to increase its business in every 
town and city, and was succeeding, but it seemed to 
be at the expense of his health. He looked haggard 
and worn out at each home-coming, and complained 
of great fatigue. One Saturday when he came to 
dinner he appeared so weary and dejected that Flor- 
ence was alarmed. “Arthur, you must let us call in 
Dr. Wilton ; you look so bad,” she urged. 

“I have been taking some medicine I got at 
Canton, and have, as you know, been dieting my- 
self, and that is probably all that can be done,” he 
responded. 

“But you look so bad I am distressed, and I think 
it is high time to have a thorough examination by 
Dr. Wilton.” 

That night Dr. Wilton was called, and he advised 
Arthur to take a rest for a few days, and gave him 
a prescription. Arthur remained at home until 
Thursday, and then made a trip to Carrollton, but 
returned Friday night quite sick. Dr. Wilton was 
sent for again, and this time he made a careful 
examination, completing it the next day by a chem- 
ical examination, which disclosed the true cause of 
the trouble. 

“Mrs. Downing,” said he in a low tone to Flor- 
ence, as they withdrew into the hall, “your husband 
has a very serious disease and he must observe the 
strictest care in his diet, and — ” 


Death’s Terrifying Methods 


73 


“Doctor, you don’t mean to say that Arthur is 
going to die?” said Florence, in terror. Oh, don’t 
tell me that ; don’t tell me that !” 

“Calm yourself, my little woman,” said the doctor, 
putting his arm around her and leading her into Mrs. 
Somerville’s room across the hall. “He is seriously 
ill and must have the best of care, but he will not 
necessarily die. Many of these cases get well, and 
it is to be hoped Mr. Downing will gradually im- 
prove.” 

“Oh, I am so glad to hear you say so, Doctor, for 
I could not lose Arthur,” said Florence, drying her 
eyes. 

“I wished you to know the truth,” said Dr. 
Wilton. I think it is always best for the family and 
the doctor to have an understanding where the case 
is serious, although the patient may have a fair 
chance to live.” 

“You take this too seriously, daughter,” said Mrs. 
Somerville. “Dr. Wilton was only telling you what 
might happen so you will be much more careful 
about his food and medicine. Arthur will get well, 
my child, I am sure; you must not be so nervous.” 

“Now, Mrs. Downing,” said the good doctor, 
taking her hands in his, “you must not worry, but 
be brave and good, as I know you can be, and I will 
come tomorrow. Good-bye.” 

Arthur improved at once under Dr. Wilton’s care, 
and was soon up and about the house. However, 
in a few weeks he began to grow emaciated, and 


74 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


prominent symptoms were present which showed 
that the fearful malady was progressing rapidly. 
He was weaker and more languid each day. Lassi- 
tude, drowsiness, lowness of spirits, petulancy and 
irritability were present. Then the mental condition 
and disposition altered, and there was a decline in 
firmness of character and moral tone. An insatiable 
thirst and excessive appetite, numerous boils and 
dimness of sight indicated beyond any doubt the 
true character of the disease. 

For a number of weeks there were occasional re- 
missions, but the dimness of sight persisted, and at 
last Dr. King, of Cleveland, was called, and while he 
advised against an operation, Arthur insisted, and 
he removed a cataract from the left eye. This 
improved the sight, but the other symptoms were 
accentuated; acute diabetes had developed and the 
case was hopeless. 

Florence watched patiently by the bedside of her 
young husband, and there was no want consistent 
with Dr. Wilton’s orders which was not immediately 
supplied. Many were her outbursts of weeping 
when she was absent from the sick room, but when 
in the presence of Arthur she was as calm, sweet and 
smiling as a May day. She and Arthur had mingled 
their tears over the oncoming of the King of Terrors 
and were resigned to the inevitable, but she was 
showing the effects of worry and was not the same 
bright, cheery woman she had been six months 
before. Even Mrs. Somerville and Charlie showed 


Death’s Terrifying Methods 


75 


the great sorrow which had entered the house, for 
they had learned to love Arthur as a son and brother. 

The days dragged wearily. At last coma showed 
its presence by various degrees of the loss of 
consciousness. It grew deeper and deeper, until 
Cheyne-Stokes respirations developed. At intervals 
the respirations became gradually hurried and more 
subterraneous up to a certain point, and then sub- 
sided in the same gradual manner until there was a 
momentary cessation of breathing, with a dead 
silence lasting from a quarter to three-quarters of a 
minute. This was the fatal symptom. The end 
was near. 

“Doctor, please tell me about Arthur ; is there no 
hope?” said Mrs. Somerville as he was passing 
quietly through the hall. 

“My dear Mrs. Somerville, the end is near. The 
final symptoms of fatality have developed, and it is 
impossible for him to live more than a few hours.” 

“Save him, save him if you can. Oh, Florence, 
Florence, my poor child! What will she do?” 
exclaimed Mrs. Somerville, in the greatest anguish. 

The good doctor was accustomed to these scenes, 
and his soothing words and comforting manner soon 
calmed her grief and he passed out to his carriage. 
He returned, however, in a few hours with his 
assistant, and then went home to get some rest and 
sleep. 

The patient was not improving, but gradually 
sinking. The Cheyne-Stokes respirations were more 


76 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


pronounced ; the pulse was weak, rapid, irregular and 
dichrotic; the mind without co-ordination. Disso- 
lution was imminent. 

A few hours later the “wings of the morning” — 
the first rays of the rising sun, casting long, soft 
shadows over the frosty snow, bore the freed spirit 
of Arthur Downing to the Unknown Shore. 

Florence had nerved herself for this awful mo- 
ment; it came, she met it and it was past; but oh, 
how could the heart withstand its awful pressure, 
its unutterable woe ! Would she go mad ? 


CHAPTER XIII 


DAMAGING HISTORY UNEARTHED 

“What! Arthur Downing dead!” exclaimed 
Harold as the usual daily claims came to his desk. 
The clerks looked at him in astonishment, and then, 
as he quietly got up and left the room, gazed at each 
other in equal astonishment. He returned presently 
and began to go over the proof sheets one by one, 
underscoring the answers which were not satisfac- 
tory with a big blue pencil. He left Arthur’s until 
the last, and then read it over very carefully. As 
he came to the amount, $10,000, and recalled the 
fact that the insured died soon after the policy was 
issued, of a disease which was usually of much 
longer duration, he said to himself : “There appears 
to be a fraud here, but I shall permit Banall and the 
other members of the company to discover it. It 
may have been an accident; at any rate, I shall be 
true to his wife, whom I loved and lost, yet whose 
love I never expect to gain.” Having finished the 
proof sheet, he went through and penciled the appli- 
cation. 

When the executive committee of the company 
met on the Thursday following, all proofs of death 


78 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


on hand were discussed, and when Arthur Down- 
ing’s was called out by President Averill, Harold 
turned pale. Mr. Averill said : ‘This man carried 
ten thousand dollars; was insured five months and 
died of diabetes mellitus,” and looked toward Dr. 
Bowman in a manner saying plainly, “Somebody 
made a mistake in the medical department.” 

“I never signed such a consummate fraud,” 
declared Dr. Bowman, who, in his own mind, never 
made a mistake. 

“The names of Dr. Wychoff and yourself are on 
it together,” responded Mr. Averill, turning over the 
paper. 

“Let me see, let me see,” said Dr. Bowman, run- 
ning his hand through his hair excitedly. “I must 
have signed it when in a great hurry, or the doctor 
who made the examination made false answers.” 
Taking the application, he said to Dr. Wychoff : 
“Doctor, you persuaded me to sign this application. 
I remember it now ; he was a friend of yours.” 

“I did just as I do with many applications,” 
explained Harold ; “went over it with you and told 
you that I thought the risk a good one and that I 
didn’t think he would commit fraud. I also added 
that he would probably find the burden too heavy 
and perhaps allow the policy to lapse before the close 
of a year. You signed it without further argument, 
and I signed it after you. I cannot think even now 
there was any fraud. It is simply one of those cases 
of diabetes which run a rapid course.” 


Damaging History Unearthed 79 

“You are right, Doctor. I remember that was 
about the way of it ; but I would not have signed it 
had it not been for you,” insisted Dr. Bowman. 

“Don’t put the blame on Dr. Wychoff; we shall 
have to hold the medical department as a whole 
responsible for this claim,” said Mr. Averill, look- 
ing toward the two doctors. 

“Dr. Wychoff and Mr. Banall had better start at 
once to look up evidence in this case,” said Judge 
Holmes, the company’s attorney. 

“I prefer not to go,” said Dr. Wychoff, “as I am 
well acquainted with these parties and could not do 
as much as a stranger.” 

“That is the very reason you will be useful to us,” 
said Mr. Averill. “You have shown your ability in 
uncovering frauds in other cases apparently more 
difficult than this- one, and we cannot permit you to 
shirk.” 

“Dr. Wychoff must go, by all means, to hunt up 
the medical testimony,” said Judge Holmes, testily. 

Harold saw plainly that he must accept the un- 
fortunate situation or lose the well-earned confidence 
of the company. The result he knew would be the 
same whether he went or not, but his blood chilled 
back into his heart as he thought of the work he 
would have to do. “Of course, I shall go, if there 
is no alternative,” he replied, with forced cheerful- 
ness. 


80 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


‘That is about the way of it, and you and Mr. 
Banall must start tomorrow,” said Mr. Averill, 
finishing the subject. 

On his arrival at Alliance Harold consulted Dr. 
Wilton, who gave him all the facts in the case so 
far as he knew them. Then he went to Dr. Goss, 
who seemed to be uncomfortable, for he felt 
chagrined that an applicant for life insurance after 
a supposed careful examination should die in five 
months of a disease which usually ran a chronic 
course. However, no information was obtained 
from him which indicated fraud. 

In the meantime Mr. Banall saw Charlie and 
Florence and obtained the facts about Arthur’s great 
exertion at the fire and his indisposition afterwards, 
and discovered, to his great surprise, that the widow 
was the pretty girl he had met at the Forest City 
Hotel in Cleveland. 

At the hotel he slapped Harold on the back in his 
accustomed way, saying: “Why didn’t you tell me 
that the widow was the pretty girl we met at Cleve- 
land ? Sly dog ; sly dog !” 

“The reason is very plain. I had no chance to 
talk to you. You know we did not meet in Boston 
after the executive committee adjourned, and you 
came here by one train and I by another, and after 
arriving I saw you only a moment on the hotel 
steps.” 

“Old fellow, I believe you missed that train on 
purpose in order not to talk about this woman, who 


Damaging History Unearthed 


81 


has behind that cloak of innocence and beauty the 
qualities of a villain. I could have fallen dead in 
love with her in Cleveland, but now I believe she is 
a cold-blooded adventuress. She married that poor 
devil when he was on his last legs, and then insured 
his life to get ten thousand dollars to sport around 
on.” 

Harold was burning to knock Banall down, but 
controlled himself sufficiently to reply : 

“Mr. Banall, that is untrue. That woman is pure 
and honorable. If there has been any fraud she is 
not aware of it.” 

“By George ! I knew you were in love with her,” 
said Banall, striking his hands together. 

“I am only telling the truth, so far as I know it, 
about a good woman,” responded Harold. “There 
has been neither fraud nor foul play on her part. It 
is one of those unfortunate cases of diabetes running 
an acute course, and the company is the loser by it. 
I knew Arthur Downing. He was a pupil of 
mine — a noble fellow as a school boy, honest and 
true as steel. I am well enough acquainted with 
the Somerville family to know that not one of them 
would indulge in the fraudulent practices which you 
and I are accustomed to find in these cases. No, 
Melville Banall, this is not a dishonest claim. It 
is one arising from an unfortunate condition in 
which you or any other active person may suddenly 
find himself.” 


82 Ten Thousand on a Life 

“Why, my dear fellow, I didn't know you could 
be so earnest. I know that you believe what you 
say is true. But, Doctor," contracting his brow, 
“the people you mention may be ignorant of dis- 
honesty, but there is wrong-doing here somewhere." 

Harold’s knowledge of medicine led him to believe 
that the disease had existed before Arthur was 
insured, but that if fraud had been committed it was 
done through ignorance. Banall did not reason 
from a scientific standpoint, but being always ready 
to take advantage of anything which would benefit 
himself, argued that everybody else would do the 
same. This was the hypothesis upon which he 
worked when investigating fraudulent claims. 

Next morning at breakfast Banall suggested that 
each take a route which Arthur had traveled, and, 
visiting his customers, endeavor to gain some infor- 
mation about his health previous to the date of his 
application for insurance. 

“Let us go over to Canton and see Agent Free- 
bold, who wrote his application," said Banall, as 
they were about to leave the hotel. “That scoundrel 
may be getting a fee out of this case for his dirty 
work." 

“Very well, I think that a good suggestion. If 
there is any fraud about this case, Freehold and Dr. 
Goss know all about it, and they are the men to be 
closely investigated." 


Damaging History Unearthed 83 

On their arrival at Mr. Freehold’s office they 
found that gentleman very busy, and he could give 
them but a few minutes of his time. 

“When will you be able to see us ?” asked Banall. 

“In about two or three hours.” 

“Are there any points of interest about your little 
city where we can spend those three hours ?” 

“Yes, there are several which might interest you. 
There are Altman, Taylor & Company’s large manu- 
facturing establishment, several glass houses, the 
Dueber Watch Case Company — that is one place 
you ought to visit. I will give you a letter of 
introduction to a gentleman in their office who will 
show you through the place.” 

After Marion Doyle read the letter he said he 
would take pleasure in showing everything of 
interest about the factory. 

“This would be a good place for life insurance. 
You might help Mr. Freehold write some risks 
among these men and put a few extra shekels in 
your own pocket,” suggested Banall, as he observed 
the great number of men employed. 

“I was just thinking about taking out a policy for 
my wife and little girl, as the uncertainty of life was 
brought very forcibly before me a few weeks ago 
when an old school friend of mine died suddenly, 
carrying a very large amount of insurance.” 

“We have a ten-thousand-dollar claim over at 
Alliance; perhaps he was the school friend alluded 


84 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


to,” said Banall, seemingly very much disinterested, 
but really anxious. 

“Do you mean Arthur Downing ?” 

“Yes, that is the one.” 

“Poor fellow ! I have been censuring myself ever 
since he died. I was about the first one to whom 
he complained, and I sent him to a young physician 
who had but little experience, when perhaps if I had 
sent him to an older physician he might have been 
living yet.” 

“I wish you had, if that would have saved his 
life, not only on account of your dead friend and 
yourself, but for the strong reason that we would 
have been ten thousand dollars better off. What 
was the young doctor’s name, Mr. Doyle ?” 

“Dr. Glenmore, of this city.” 

“It is a case that is of medical interest, and I have, 
together with my friend the Doctor here, been 
speculating as to the length of time he was sick, for 
we think it was one of the shortest cases on record. 
Do you remember the date of his going to Dr. 
Glenmore?” 

“Let me see; it was about the last of August, last 
year, I believe.” 

They were shown every step in the process of 
manufacturing watch cases, which was indeed very 
interesting and instructive; but neither Harold nor 
Mr. Banall showed much interest, as each was 
absorbed with thoughts of a different nature. 


Damaging History Unearthed 85 

After they left the factory Banall said : “This is 
a better clue than we could obtain from all the cus- 
tomers he had. Think of it ! Consulting a doctor 
in August, and the application was not made until 
in September. No doubt that young doctor holds 
the key to the situation.” 

“There may be nothing in this clue you think is 
so positive,” said Harold. 

“We shall see. That is Dr. Glenmore’ s sign; 
let us go in.” 

They rang the bell, and Dr. Glenmore came to the 
door and invited them in. 

“Dr. Glenmore, my name is Banall. Permit me 
to introduce Dr. Wychoff.” 

“I am glad to meet you, gentlemen. Be seated.” 

“Dr. Glenmore, did you ever have a patient by 
the name of Downing — Arthur Downing?” 

“Yes.” 

“Do you remember the date ?” 

“About August 30 last.” 

“We are representing the Royal Life Company, 
of Boston, which carried ten thousand dollars insur- 
ance on his life, and we would like to know your 
diagnosis.” 

“I could not give it, gentlemen. I regard what 
I find out about my patients, whether trivial or 
grave, as strictly confidential — in other words, as a 
professional secret, which every professional man 
should regard as sacred.” 


86 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


“We are willing to offer a consideration for this 
information — suppose we say four V’s?" said 
Banall, inquiringly. 

“No, sir; I will give you no information about 
my patients/' getting up and walking to the door 
as an apparent invitation to depart. 

“Take this matter under consideration, Doctor, 
for we are willing to remunerate you liberally for 
your answer to this question." 

“I will accept no remuneration which will dis- 
honor my profession." 

“Well, Doctor, we will bid you good-day, but 
probably we shall call on you again," said Banall. 

After reaching their hotel 'Harold and Banall 
decided to go to Boston at once, and left on the 
midnight train. At the next meeting of the execu- 
tive committee their reports were examined, and 
the company decided not to pay the claim. 


CHAPTER XIV 


HOW WIDOWS ARE DEVOURED 

The time for paying the insurance on Arthur’s 
life brought no word from the company. Charlie 
wrote a polite note asking when they would be pre- 
pared to settle, in reply to which Mr. Banall arrived 
in Alliance ready to compromise. When he men- 
tioned compromise Charlie was furious, and said his 
sister would not accept a cent less than ten thousand 
dollars. 

“I will go and see your sister. I know that under 
the circumstances she will accept less.” 

“My sister has recently been ill, and you cannot 
see her. Anything you wish to say you can say to 
me. 

“Now, Mr. Somerville, you must know that we 
have the evidence which shows your brother-in-law 
had diabetes before he made application for insur- 
ance, which of course relieves the company from 
any liability.” 

“Show that evidence,” said Charlie, angrily. 

“Oh, well,” said Banall, in an indifferent way, 
“we are not going to put evidence in your hands to 


88 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


use against us. You will see it before we finish the 
case.” 

“If your evidence is absolute you would not hesi- 
tate to produce it now. You know as well as I do 
you have no such evidence. Furthermore,” said 
Charlie, coming closer and talking rather aggres- 
sively, “all your infernal insurance companies are 
frauds, and yours is the biggest one of the lot. 
This is an outrage — trying to cheat my sister out of 
her insurance money, and I will report your com- 
pany to the Ohio Insurance Commissioner.” 

“My dear sir,” said Banall, in his blandest way, 
“you forget that there has been something criminal 
about the matter, and that if you or your sister 
urged Mr. Downing to take that insurance you are 
liable to be proceeded against criminally.” 

“The idea of my sister being a criminal is pre- 
posterous — outrageous. I see there is no other way 
but for me to turn this case, and you, too, over to 
our lawyer.” 

“But,” said Banall, seeing he was going to come 
in contact with one better versed in law and insur- 
ance than Charlie, “we know, and the people of this 
city know, that your brother-in-law could not afford 
to carry that amount of insurance, and that he only 
took out the policy when he had a fatal disease.” 

“You know nothing of the kind, and the people 
of this city do not know such to be the fact. He did 
not know he had a fatal disease when he took the 
insurance, for the agent was sitting on the chair you 


How Widows are Devoured 89 

are now occupying when Arthur came in, and Mr. 
Brannon remarked that Arthur was a young mar- 
ried man and ought to have some insurance. The 
result was that your agent talked to him for two 
hours before he wrote the application. No, sir, he 
never thought of insurance until Freehold talked 
him into taking out that policy, and talked him into 
making it ten when he wanted only five thousand.” 

“Come, come,” said the strategic Banall, “you 
don’t want this affair made public, and the past 
history of this and other events exposed for the 
comment of a cold and cruel world.” 

“I care nothing for public opinion when I am 
right. Besides, public opinion is all right, too, 
when rightly informed.” 

“But it will be argued that some of the parties 
connected with this case have been the subject of 
criminal proceedings heretofore, and are not above 
entering into a conspiracy to defraud,” said Banall, 
stepping down and out of the office door to the pave- 
ment as he added: “You had better compromise.” 

Charlie began to realize that the curse of his 
youthful indiscretion might be brought into this 
case, and every fibre tingled with anger. He was 
about to make a rush for Banall, who was a coward, 
when Mr. Brannon caught him and said simply, 
“Charlie!” Banall saw there was danger in staying 
longer, and, thinking he had gained his point, 
returned to his hotel. 


90 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


Next morning at ten o’clock, accompanied by an 
old acquaintance for personal protection, he again 
appeared at the office of Somerville, Downing & 
Company. Having introduced the acquaintance, 
he remarked, most affably: “Mr. Somerville, I 
desire to see your sister before I leave the city.” 

“My sister ought not to see any one ; she has been 
ill.” 

“But, Mr. Somerville, it is necessary.” 

“I cannot see that your business with her con- 
cerning this insurance cannot be settled with me.” 

“The company would not consider the business 
properly attended to if I did not call on the bene- 
ficiary.” 

“Very well, we will go over now.” 

“Now, Mrs. Downing,” said Banall, after the 
usual greetings had been said, “there is no necessity 
of discussing more than two facts in this case. 
First, we have the evidence that your husband knew 
he had a fatal disease before he took out the insur- 
ance. Second, that fact was confirmed when he 
undertook to carry a larger amount than he could 
afford on the salary he was getting and the business 
his firm was doing.” 

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Banall,” said Florence, 
her face coloring. “My husband did not know he 
was suffering from a fatal disease when he took that 
insurance, for he told me everything, and I know he 
would not have kept it from me.” Here that awful 
night when she and Arthur had mingled their tears 


How Widows are Devoured 91 

over his hopeless malady came back with ten-fold 
vividness, and she burst out crying. Charlie could 
not restrain his own tears, but put his arm around 
her, and in his clumsy but manly and affectionate 
way tried to console her. 

Banall felt comfortable. He had his big, burly 
acquaintance with him and feared no bodily harm. 
He thought Florence’s tears meant that the barriers 
were broken, and that he was in a fair way to com- 
promise the claim for a small sum. He had a heart 
of stone, and many a poor widow and orphan had 
been deprived of just dues through his sharp 
practice, for he sought self-aggrandizement alone, 
whether claims were fraudulent or honest. Good 
old President Averill did not know the advantage 
Banall took of many a poor woman’s ignorance in 
order to make the company think he was a great 
detective, ferreting out frauds, and was invaluable 
to their service. Many times when he had compro- 
mised a five-thousand-dollar claim for half its face, 
he chuckled over the prospective increase of salary 
at the beginning of the year. 

Florence’s first impulse, after regaining self- 
control, was to tell him that she would not touch 
a cent of the insurance money, as it seemed to her 
to be stained with Arthur’s blood. Then the sweet 
little face, muffled in flannels, which she had 
stooped to kiss but a few moments before arose in 
her mind, together with her present financial con- 
dition as compared to what it was before the fire, 
and she resolved to take it for little Arthur’s sake. 


92 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


Mr. Banall had been pacing the floor, looking very 
sober, as was his custom under such circumstances, 
and when he saw that Florence had regained full 
control of herself he said: “Mrs. Downing, the 
company has authorized me to give you one thou- 
sand dollars. That is about the amount it would 
cost us to stand a suit at law. You would gain that 
much, while by suing you would lose all.” 

“There has been no fraudulent practice, as you 
claim, in this case, and there are no reasons why you 
should not pay the whole amount. I cannot think 
of accepting the sum you offer,” she replied, 
decisively. 

“Don’t accept one penny less than ten thousand 
dollars, and if they will not pay it we will turn the 
matter over to Mr. Garvin and let him enter suit,” 
added Charlie very positively. 

“Well, we might make it a little more in order to 
get the matter off our books and to save us the 
trouble and worry of a suit.” 

“Mr. Banall, this is an honest debt your company 
owes, and I can accept no compromise,” said Flor- 
ence, in her mild but determined way, leaving the 
drawing-room. 

“Well,” said Mr. Banall, giving his head a toss 
and preparing to leave, “you will regret this 
decision.” 

“Never,” said Charlie, as he opened the door for 
them to pass out. 

Mr. Banall saw there was determination about 


How Widows are Devoured 


93 


their decision and that it must now come to a law- 
suit. He had failed in the methods he usually 
employed with success, but he felt a certain satisfac- 
tion in some of the evidence obtained, which would 
make him an important figure when the case came 
to trial. 

The next morning he left for Boston to hand in 
his report, but before going was careful to intimate, 
so it would be spread abroad, that Charlie Somer- 
ville might wear the stripes again, and his sister 
stood in a very unenviable position; that it looked 
rather queer that Downing should die five months 
after he took that large amount of insurance; that 
probably Charlie Somerville, having been over the 
road, planned the whole affair and made his sister 
a party to it, and that sometimes women hide behind 
beauty and religion a character not above taking 
ten thousand dollars, when it can be obtained by a 
little finesse. 


CHAPTER XV 


FLORENCE SUSPECTED 

Banall’s report was taken up promptly by the 
executive committee, and while there was not 
sufficient evidence obtained to prove that the case 
was fraudulent, there were enough suspicious 
features to warrant defending a suit at law. 

“Now,” said President Averill, “we have gone 
through the application, proof of death and the 
correspondence; also examined the reports of Dr. 
Wychoff and Mr. Banall. What can you suggest 
to make our defense stronger, Judge Holmes?” 

“There is one point we have never settled; how 
did the insured pass the medical examination if he 
had this disease at the time the application for 
insurance was made? Has Dr. Goss received a fat 
fee for overlooking the chemical examination ? Did 
he make a mistake ? Was there substitution? Did 
this disease develop after the examination? These 
are questions we must now look into,” responded 
Holmes, looking glum. 

“Substitution is about the only theory that is 
tenable,” said Dr. Bowman, “and about the only 


Florence Suspected 


95 


one we can suspect of making the substitution is the 
beneficiary, the wife.” 

“But,” said Holmes, “in the case of Kirkpatrick, 
at Lexington, Kentucky, which was somewhat sim- 
ilar, you said it was almost impossible for his wife 
to be implicated.” 

“This presents a different state of facts. Mrs. 
Kirkpatrick was eight months enceinte when the 
application was dated, and Mrs. Downing but three 
months. Albumen would very likely be shown in 
some amount at least, on careful examination at 
eight months, while there should not be a trace at 
three months. Yes, I think we can safely include 
her in our list of suspects,” said Dr. Bowman. 

“By George ! If we convict her and send her to 
Columbus, she will be the beauty of the 'pen/ ” 
said Banall, with brutal jocularity. 

“You seem to be quite taken with her beauty,” 
said Mr. Averill. 

“Taken,” said Banall, getting up and turning 
clear around, “every one of you would go crazy over 
her beauty and manner, if you saw her as I did at 
Cleveland. But I tell you, gentlemen,” rubbing his 
hands together and looking wise, “I believe she 
hides behind this attractive cloak the elements of a 
criminal. Dr. Wychoff does not think so, but these 
old bachelors are more easily swayed than married 
men.” 

“Our time is short,” said Judge Holmes, getting 
back to business, “and the best thing to be done is 


96 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


to send Banall out to Alliance, employ one of the 
best detectives in the place and get additional evi- 
dence with regard to substitution. The detective 
should try to get all the information possible from 
the servants of the household and the employes of 
the store. We have only a short time to prepare our 
answer, and must hurry the matter along.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


UNEXPECTED CLUE FROM A “HAYSEED” 

On July seventh President Averill, Judge Holmes 
and Harold set out for Canton, Banall being already 
there. They went via New York, over the Balti- 
more and Ohio, to Bellaire, Ohio, where they had 
another claim they had been contesting for years. 
Mr. Averill and Judge Holmes took a section 
together, while Harold had a berth just in front of 
them. Number five, just across the aisle from 
Harold, was occupied by a man in a dark gray suit, 
who might have been forty-five, and a woman who 
was anywhere from thirty to fifty, according to 
powder and other decorations. 

“D’ye know anything ’bout this town?” said the 
man in number five, in a loud, coarse voice, to 
Harold, pointing with his thumb toward the Capitol, 
as the train drew into Washington. 

“I lived here four years.” 

“Purty nice town, ain’t it?” 

“Beautiful city; none more beautiful anywhere.” 

“Maybe you didn’t suspect it, but I’m off on my 
weddin’ tower — that’s my wife Mandy in there,” 
nodding his head toward the rear of the train. 


98 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


“Allow me to congratulate you, sir said Harold, 
offering his hand. 

“Wall, you know it was this way. My first wife 
died ’bout ten years ago, and I have been livin’ with 
my daughter on the old farm. She got married 
’bout a year ago, or ’bout the time we struck ile at 
Sistersville, and it was awful lonely when she was 
gone. After them New York fellers struck ile 1 
was rich, and Mandy, that’s my wife now, she was 
a widder, livin’ only a little piece from my place. 
She begun to be awful good to me, and after awhile 
I thought how I’d like to be hitched up again. I 
axed her, or ruther she axed me, and I ’greed, and 
now we’re one, till I git drunk, and then people 
think we’re a whole rigiment.” 

“The oil wells at Sistersville have been very pay- 
ing ones, I believe.” 

“Yes, and we’ve got mor’n fifty throwin’ up the 
greasy. There’s my card. I’m sellin’ oil machinery 
now to put in time.” 

“I knew a family in Ohio of the same name — 
Downing.” 

“ ’Spect that’s my brother John in Jefferson 
County.” 

“Did he have a son Arthur?” 

“Yes, an’ he died some time ago with the same 
disease that John’s wife’s pap and his two brothers 
died with.” 

This was news for Harold, and he made a mental 
note of it. It was a strange coincidence that at this 


Unexpected Clue from a “ Hayseed ” 99 

time he should meet in this quaint individual the 
uncle of Arthur Downing, and thereafter till bed- 
time he gave himself up to ruminations, regrets and 
thoughts of Florence. 

Some time in the night Harold was aroused by 
hearing his friend in number five cry out : 

“Mandy, I don’t know what’s wrong with this 
tarnation blanket ; it won’t come down.” 

A moment later two feet struck the floor, thud, 
thud. He looked out, and there was the male occu- 
pant of lower five in his night robes, with disheveled 
hair, pulling on the blanket of upper five like an 
engine, while the yells from the upper berth awoke 
all the passengers. 

“By cracky ! I didn’t know there was a live man 
in that bed up there,” said he, disappearing behind 
the curtains like a rabbit under a sidewalk. 

The next morning, when the train was gliding 
down the west slope of the Alleghanies, the occu- 
pants of number five were making much noise and 
the curtain was bulging half way out into the aisle. 
Harold’s berth had been made up, and he was busy 
reading. Realizing that there was congestion if not 
trouble in number five, he said: “Mr. Downing, 
come over in my section and you will have more 
room for dressing.” 

“I believe I will, fur these infernal shoes seems to 
have drawed up durin’ the night, or my feet’s got the 
dropsy this momin’.” Taking both shoes in one 
hand and walking over in a very unsteady way to 


100 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


Harold’s section, he sat down, dropped the shoes on 
the floor, then picked up one and began to pull with 
a mighty force which broke the strap. He looked 
down to see what injury he had done, and with a 
scowl glanced all around and growled : 

“I'll be gosh durned if that nigger didn’t swap 
shoes with me in the night.” Then, spying the 
porter, he said, in a loud voice: “Come here, you 
great, big, grinnin’ charcoal pit. Where’s my 
shoes ?” 

“I dunno ; ain’t them your shoes ?” 

“My shoes!” he yelled, getting up and giving 
himself a shake, and looking down on the frightened 
porter like a thunder-cloud, while his long hair 
stood out at right angles all over his head. 

“What’s the matter, Zeke?” inquired his wife, 
putting her head out from between the curtains. 

“Why, Mandy, some infernal thievin’ rascal has 
stole my weddin’ shoes — them shoes old Sam John- 
son made fur me fur twelve dollars?” 

“Don’t talk so loud, dear; they will turn up all 
right.” 

“Turn up,” said he, louder than ever, “if they 
don’t I’ll turn up this ’ere train !” 

“What has gone wrong, my good man?” asked 
the conductor. 

“That air nigger of your’n, or somebody else, 
hooked my twelve-dollar weddin’ shoes, and put 
these here old God-forsaken kickers in their place,” 


Unexpected Clue from a “ Hayseed” 101 

said he, as he picked up one of the shoes, which had 
a transverse tear on one side. 

“Let me see,” said the conductor, meditating; 
“the man that had upper five got out at Rowlsburg, 
and perhaps he took your shoes by mistake.” 

“Mistake,” said he, holding the shoe in one hand 
and pointing to it with the index finger of the other. 

“How the d could a man make a mistake, when 

mine was tens and these can’t be mor’n fives?” 

“Never mind,” said the conductor, kindly, “we 
will make a search, and I think we can find them, as 
all the passengers are not up yet.” 

“You had better find them, or I’ll blow up your 
blasted railroad.” Then, remembering the blanket 
incident, he turned to his wife and said, in a more 
subdued tone: “Mebbe that darned fool overhead 
thought I was goin’ to rob him and got out in such 
a hurry that he did take my shoes by mistake.” 

“Moundsville,” called the brakeman, and Harold 
was informed that the odd couple had to change to 
the Ohio River Railroad for home. They bade him 
good-bye and left the car, the bride smiling, while 
the groom’s face looked severe, cold and deeply 
disgusted. He was last seen crossing the platform 
toward the station, carrying an umbrella in one 
hand and a valise with a pair of shoes tied to it in 
the other, while the white toes and heels of his home- 
knit socks stood out in screaming contrast to the 
rest of his apparel and the weather. 


CHAPTER XVII 


Harold's humiliating testimony 

“Now,” continued Mr. Banall, on arriving next 
morning at Canton, “this man, Silas Dean, whom 
we have employed, and who has been working on 
the case some three weeks, is a good all-around 
lawyer, as well as noted in criminal and divorce 
cases. He will spring a sensation if possible, and 
will make it very warm for the widow and her 
brother.” 

The case was duly called, but there was little done 
during the first day. Next day several unimportant 
witnesses had been examined, and several tilts 
occurred between the attorneys, when the plaintiff's 
lawyers, Proctor Beall and Johnson Garvin, called 
the name of Dr. Harold Wychoff as the next witness. 

Harold stepped to the stand, took the oath, kissed 
the book presented to him and waited nervously for 
questions. After answering inquiries about his age, 
education, vocation, etc., Mr. Beall said : 

“Dr. Wychoff, have you traveled much ?” 

“No, sir; I cannot say I have.” 

“Did you ever take a long journey?” 

“Yes.” 


Harold's Humiliating Testimony 


103 


“Between what points did you travel in this long 
journey ?” 

“Between the City of Washington and the Terri- 
tory of Alaska." 

“I do not wish to be impertinent, Doctor, but I 
would like to know what called you to Alaska." 

“I had a contract with the United States Fur 
Company." 

“In what capacity?" 

“As a surgeon.” 

“Do they employ surgeons to skin seals in 
Alaska?" 

“The Government requires the company to em- 
ploy a surgeon, who shall be constantly on duty at 
each post occupied by them, to treat the natives and 
look after any other person who needs medical at- 
tention." 

“By which route did you travel from Washing- 
ton ?" 

“Over the Baltimore and Ohio to Chicago, then 
over the Santa Fe to San Francisco." 

“Did you make any acquaintances en route?" 

“I did." 

“Ladies or gentlemen?" 

“Both." 

“At what point did you meet the first lady?" 

“At Chicago." 

“Was she traveling alone ?" 

“She was." 


104 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


“Was there any particular reason for forming this 
lady’s acquaintance, or was it simply your general 
fondness for ladies’ society?” 

“She had lost a small traveling bag containing 
valuable papers and appeared very nervous about it. 
I offered my services, as I thought duty dictated, and 
she accepted my offer.” 

“What did you do for her?” 

“I went to the baggage-room to look for the bag, 
but it could not be found.” 

“Did you help her to the train and sit with her 
during any part of the journey?” 

“Yes.” 

“How far did you ride with her?” 

“From Chicago to Fort Madison, Iowa.” 

“In which car did you have seats?” 

“In one of the chair cars.” 

“Did you have a ticket for a berth or a section in 
the sleeping car?” 

“I did.” 

“Why did you not go into the sleeper and occupy 
the seat you had paid for?” 

“I thought I could be of some assistance to her; 
she was alone.” 

“Did she make any objection to your attentions?” 

“Certainly not.” 

“Why were you attracted to this young lady? 
Because of her beauty and pleasing manner?” 

“Perhaps so, partially.” 

“When did you leave her?” 


Harold’s Humiliating Testimony 


105 


“She left the train at Fort Madison, and I con- 
tinued my journey.” 

“Was the journey from Chicago to Fort Madison 
a pleasant one ?” 

“It was, indeed.” 

“Will you give me the name of this lady?” 

“I object,” said Mr. Dean. 

“Will you state the ground for your objection,” 
said His Honor. 

“It is not pertinent to the question at issue.” 

“Your Honor, it may not appear so now, but will 
when we have proceeded further.” 

“.The Court decides it is a proper question. The 
witness may answer.” 

“Miss Florence Somerville.” 

“Did you fulfill your contract with the Fur Com- 
pany?” continued Mr. Beall. 

“I came down one year before my contract ex- 
pired.” 

“On returning from Alaska at what points did 
you stop before you reached Washington?” 

“San Francisco, Chicago, Alliance and Pitts- 
burg.” 

“Did you see any one at Alliance that you knew ?” 
“I did.” 

“Whom?” 

“Miss Somerville.” 

“The same lady you met at Chicago?” 

“The same.” 


106 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


“Why did you not fulfill your contract with the 
United States Fur Company?” 

“I wanted to get back to civilization.” 

“Did not the fact that you would see Miss Somer- 
ville influence you in giving up your contract ?” 

“I don’t think I ought to answer so broadly as 
that. I had many reasons for returning, and a 
desire to see Miss Somerville was one of them.” 

“Did you see Miss Somerville often while in 
Alliance?” 

“Quite often.” 

“When did you next see Miss Somerville?” 

“In about a year.” 

“You, of course, corresponded with her in the 
interval ?” 

“I did.” 

“Where was this last meeting between Miss 
Somerville and yourself?” 

“In Alliance, Ohio.” 

“Had you business in Alliance ?” 

“I had not.” 

“Why did you come to Alliance?” 

“To call upon Miss Somerville.” 

“Was not your departure unexpectedly hastened ?” 

“I left sooner than I had intended.” 

“What hastened your departure ?” 

“A private matter between Miss Somerville and 
myself.” 

“What was this private matter ?” 


Harold's Humiliating Testimony 


107 


Harold hesitated, changed his position and brushed 
back his hair. 

“You will please answer/' insisted the attorney. 

“I proposed marriage." 

“Did she accept the proposal ?" 

“No." 

“Now, Dr. Wychoff," said Mr. Beall, changing 
some papers on his table from one side to the other, 
“did you know Arthur Downing?" 

“Yes." 

“Did he ever hold a position subordinate to you ?" 

“He was my pupil." 

“To whom was he married?" 

“To Miss Florence Somerville." 

“Is this Miss Florence Somerville the one who 
rejected your proposal ?" 

“She is." 

“Was this same Arthur Downing insured in the 
life insurance company of which you have been for 
several years the assistant medical director?" 

“He was." 

“Did you see his application before it was 
approved ?" 

“I did." 

“Was the risk as shown by the application first- 
class ?" 

“Yes, we so rated it." 

“Did you offer any objections to its acceptance?" 

“I underscored the amount, as it was larger than 
I thought he could afford to carry. Such a case is 


108 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


considered suspicious, but I argued that Mr. Down- 
ing would probably find his burden too heavy and 
reduce it before the close of the year.” 

“Who was the beneficiary ?” 

“His wife.” 

“What were your feelings toward her at the time 
of the insurance ?” 

“I had the greatest respect for her.” 

“After Arthur Downing’s death you came to 
Alliance. Will you tell the Court and the jury for 
what purpose ?” 

“To look up the cause of his death, under instruc- 
tions from the executive committee.” 

“How many claims similar to the one now before 
the Court have you investigated ?” 

“About twenty-five.” 

“Did you see the beneficiary or her brother when 
taking testimony for your company ?” 

“I did not.” 

“Why?” 

“Because my business is confined to looking after 
the medical part of the case.” 

“What were your feelings toward Mrs. Downing 
at the time you were investigating this claim ?” 

“They had not changed in the least.” 

“Did you not feel vindictive?” 

“Not in the slightest.” 

“Were you not seeking revenge for a supposed 
injury to your feelings?” 

“I had no injured feelings to be avenged.” 


Harold’s Humiliating Testimony 109 

“The witness may be excused,” said Mr. Beall. 

The testimony that Harold was obliged to give 
was exceedingly humiliating, and he felt keenly the 
position in which he was placed. He at first thought 
of leaving the court-room as soon as he was dis- 
missed from the witness stand, but on second 
thought determined to face the whole affair, and he 
took his seat beside Judge Holmes to write answers 
to a number of questions about diabetes which Mr. 
Dean had put on a piece of paper. 

Mr. Averill and Judge Holmes looked at each 
other in astonishment when Harold was answering 
the disagreeable questions Mr. Beall was asking, but 
over Banall’s features played a sarcastic smile of 
intense satisfaction. He was jealous of Harold, and 
rejoiced in the humiliation that was being put upon 
him. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


FLORENCE TESTIFIES BRUTALITY OF LAWYERS 

The next witness was Charlie Somerville, who 
had to go through his life’s history as we already 
know it, and answer many questions intimating that 
he also was a criminal in the pending case. While 
he was on the stand Mr. Garvin sent for Florence 
and her mother, who had not yet entered the court- 
house. 

Florence, in deep mourning, was a picture to be 
worshipped. She was twenty-seven, with full, 
rounded figure and masses of wavy brown hair 
which rolled gracefully back from intelligent, well- 
modeled features to the folds of her jet black veil. 
Soft brown eyes, a flush of embarrassment, an 
innocent, candid, sympathetic manner, quiet but com- 
plete self-control and that indescribable air of high- 
bred distinction which is almost beauty itself com- 
bined to make her an object of universal admiration. 

The eyes of every juryman followed her from the 
moment she entered the door until she sat at Mr. 
Garvin’s table. The old judge looked over his 
spectacles interestedly long after she had become 


Florence Testifies — Brutality of Lawyers ill 

seated. And every one else turned to look at her, 
not only on account of her beauty, but because there 
were intimations that she might be connected crim- 
inally with the case. 

She began at once to examine a sheet of paper 
which Mr. Garvin pushed toward her. She finished 
it and looked toward him. With a pleasant smile 
he shoved another document over the table to her. 
After she had read a few lines her face turned 
scarlet and later a chalky white. The little sentences 
in Mr. Garvin’s scrawled hand were bringing 
forcibly before her the terrible ordeal she must pass 
through. At this moment Mr. Dean and Mr. Beall 
had some very sharp words, and Florence, looking 
up from the paper she was reading, caught the eye 
of the foreman of the jury, who was regarding her 
with an absorbed admiration which appeared to shut 
out everything else from his thoughts. She also 
observed Harold busy writing, and she again 
resumed her reading. 

Mrs. Somerville’s cheery, benevolent and young- 
looking face, framed about with silvery gray hair 
and the white and black frill of widowhood, was 
likewise the object of many complimentary observa- 
tions. 

“Mrs. Florence Downing,” drawled the clerk, 
while the court-room resolved itself into an air of 
intense expectancy. 

Mr. Garvin whispered a few words of cheer as 
she went to the box. The jury and spectators were 


112 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


anxious, craning their necks to get a better view, 
while judge and lawyers with one accord turned 
toward the witness. The fact that she had often 
appeared at public concerts helped her to bear the 
embarrassing scrutiny of the general gaze. 

Mr. Beall completed his examination, and Mr. 
Dean, after consultation with Judge Holmes, slowly 
arose, keeping his eyes fixed on the papers he held 
in his hand, and proceeded with the cross-examina- 
tion. 1 

“Mrs. Downing, when did you first meet your late 
husband ?” 

“I do not remember.” 

“How long did you know him before you were 
engaged to him ?” 

“About three years.” 

“What was his standing, socially, compared to 
yours ?” 

“About the same, perhaps.” 

“Would he have been welcome in the same society 
as yourself before your marriage with him?” 

“I think so.” 

“Now, Mrs. Downing, please do not think me 
impertinent if I ask a few simple questions as to 
your courtship, marriage and married life. I have 
no purpose or desire to bring such sacred matters 
before the public, and least of all to give you pain. 
I wish only to draw out what justice and right 
require to be known.” Then Mr. Dean continued : 


Florence Testifies — Brutality of Lawyers 113 

“Mrs. Downing, were you thrown in Mr. Down- 
ing’s society often during your first acquaintance 
with him ?” 

“Yes, quite often.” 

“Where?” 

“At church, and at entertainments at Mount 
Union College.” 

“Over how long a period did your courtship last?” 

“I do not know.” 

“Was it admiration at first sight on your part?” 

“Certainly not.” 

“How long before you were married did you feel 
a greater interest in Mr. Downing than other men 
with whom you came in contact ?” 

“About two years.” 

“How long were you engaged before you were 
married ?” 

“About eleven months.” 

“Did any member of your family object to your 
marriage with Mr. Downing?” 

“Yes, my mother.” 

“On what ground?” 

Florence hesitated. How could she go further 
with this terrible ordeal ? 

“Did you understand the question?” asked Mr. 
Dean, very blandly. 

“Yes.” 

“Will you please answer?” 

“Because he had not sufficient wealth, as she 
thought.” 


114 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


“How much money did your husband have at the 
time of your marriage ?” 

“I do not know.” 

“Had he anything more than his salary?” 

“No, sir; I think not.” 

“What was his salary ?” 

“Sixty dollars a month and expenses.” 

“Did you ever know him to be sick during the 
time you knew him, previous to your marriage ?” 

“I did not.” 

“What was the state of his health when you 
married him ?” 

“Oh ! he was well ; he was very strong.” 

“When was the first time you knew him to be 
sick ?” 

“In August, after our marriage.” 

“What was the cause of this illness?” 
“Over-exertion at the fire which destroyed the 
warehouse.” 

“When was the next time ?” 

“In September.” 

“What date?” 

“About the seventh.” 

“What was the cause of this illness ?” 

“I do not know.” 

“How long was he sick?” 

“But a few days.” 

“What was the nature of this illness?” 

“I do not know.” 


Florence Testifies — Brutality of Lawyers 115 

“When were you aware of the fact that your 
husband had a fatal disease ?” 

“When Dr. Wilton told me.” 

“What date was this ?” 

“The first of November.” 

“When was your first knowledge of your hus- 
band’s intention to carry ten thousand dollars of life 
insurance ?” 

“When he knew he must die,” said Florence, 
bursting into tears. 

“Well, that was prudent; that was wise,” said Mr. 
Dean, walking about in front of his table. “You 
say when he knew he must die. Then,” with an 
uplifted finger and a quick voice, “you urged him 
to take the insurance ?” 

“No,” said Florence, drying her tears; “it was 
then I knew he was carrying the insurance.” 

“What date was that ?” 

“In December.” 

“Who paid the premiums on this insurance?” 

“I do not know, but I presume my brother did.” 

“Were you not anxious each premium should not 
become overdue?” 

“No, sir, for I knew nothing about the premiums.” 

Judge Holmes here held a whispered conversation 
with Mr. Dean, who turned to Florence, looked at 
her sharply for a time and said : 

“Mrs. Downing, you had a consultation with your 
husband about this insurance at the time he made 
application for it ?” 


116 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


“I cared nothing about the insurance.” 

“But you did not answer my question. Did you 
have a consultation with your husband about this 
ten thousand dollars insurance at the time he made 
application to the Royal Life Company?” said Mr. 
Dean, shaking the policy which he held in his hand 
in a threatening manner. 

“I did not,” said she, emphatically. 

“Did you not, Mrs. Downing, reject Dr. Wychoff 
in order to marry this moneyless youth, insure his 
life and be left sole beneficiary of this ten thousand 
dollars ?” 

“Oh, horrors, no!” she exclaimed, weeping vio- 
lently. 

Mr. Dean jammed his hands into his pockets, 
strode several times back and forth in front of the 
witness box and, stopping quickly, demanded : 

“Will you swear your husband is not alive 
to-day?” 

“Yes, but I only wish he was,” crying more un- 
controllably than ever. 

“What was the amount of your individual loss by 
the fire in the wholesale grocery of Somerville, 
Downing & Company?” 

“I do not know exactly.” 

“Can you give no idea of the amount?” 

“I object,” said Mr. Beall. 

“The objection is not sustained,” said His Honor. 

“About eleven thousand dollars,” said Florence. 


Florence Testifies — Brutality of Lawyers 117 

“What was the amount of your share in your 
father’s estate?” 

“Nineteen thousand six hundred dollars.” 

Then Mr. Dean picked up the little scrap of paper 
Judge Holmes had thrown on the table before him, 
and continued : 

“Now, Mrs. Downing, did you not substitute or 
have substituted a dead body for that of your hus- 
band, and is not your husband now alive and in 
hiding until this matter is settled ?” 

Florence broke down completely. Waiting pass- 
ively for her to regain something of her natural 
composure, Mr. Dean straightened up and inquired : 

“Was not this outburst the result of a guilty con- 
science rather than that of real sorrow ?” 

“I object,” said Mr. Beall, showing a somewhat 
dangerous degree of anger. 

“The witness need not answer that question,” 
interposed the Court. 

Walking the length of his table, his thumbs thrust 
into the armholes of his waistcoat, Dean adopted a 
new line of inquiry : 

“Mrs. Downing, are you now engaged to be 
married ?” 

“Oh, no!” 

“Were you ever engaged to any man but your late 
husband ?” 

“Never.” 


118 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


“Mrs. Downing, did you not contemplate marry- 
ing Arthur Downing, insuring his life and, after his 
death, securing the insurance money, and accepting 
your first suitor?” 

“No, no ! How horrible !” she exclaimed, cover- 
ing her face with her handkerchief. 

“Will you swear that it was the body of your 
husband which was buried under the name of Arthur 
Downing ?” 

“Oh, yes !” said Florence, sobbing again as if her 
heart would break. 

“Did you not substitute, or cause to be substituted, 
a dead body, obtained for the purpose, for that of 
your husband?” 

“Mr. Dean,” she exclaimed, “I will not answer 
that question; it is, like the several questions pre- 
ceding it, infamous.” 

“Don’t lose your temper, please. Answer the 
second part of my question.” 

“I did not lose my temper; I was so shocked I 
could not answer.” 

“You will pardon me, Mrs. Downing. You are 
now excused. I have nothing further to ask,” bow- 
ing and smiling to the witness with extravagant 
suavity. 

At this point the judge adjourned court for the 
noon hour. It was intimated that on reassembling 
witnesses would be put on the stand to prove that 
some of the intimations in the questions Mr. Dean 
had asked were truths. Enough had been brought 


Florence Testifies — Brutality of Lawyers 119 

out or hinted at to make the trial very much of a 
sensation. Mr. Dean’s last question and the im- 
mediate adjournment seemed to signify that some- 
thing unusual was about to be brought forward. 
Mr. Garvin and Mr. Beall remained at the court- 
house for some time after the adjournment, and their 
manner showed they were annoyed and expected a 
surprise. 


CHAPTER XIX 


harold's unspeakable anguish 

The feelings of Dr. Wychoff, as he sat unwillingly 
at the lawyer's table, translating medical terms and 
giving such other information as related to the 
medical part of the trial, cannot be defined. He had 
been humiliated to the last degree before the very 
men he wished to respect him, and with whom (if 
he held his position) he must associate every day. 
No one had known of his love for Florence or his 
rejection by her until it was told on the witness stand 
by himself. His dejection was heavy. He had not 
permitted his eyes to meet those of Florence, but he 
glanced at her frequently, and each time brought 
back the days of that long year in which he thought 
of her, dreamed of her and built castles which made 
the future an elysium. 

Arriving at the hotel after adjournment, Harold 
said : “Mr. Averill, come with me to my room." 
Mr. Averill, who was like a father to him, took hold 
of the lapels of Harold's coat and, drawing up 
closely, said kindly: 

“Don’t be sad, my boy. We all know you loved 
her, even if there are good reasons now to believe 


Harold’s Unspeakable Anguish 121 

she is a criminal in this case. She is certainly a 
lovely woman, and if this suspicion were not about 
her any man might worship her. Why, I kept my 
eyes on her all the time she was in the witness box — 
I could not help it. I tell you, Doctor, she is an 
enigma. You believe in her, and it does you credit.” 

“Mr. Averill,” said Harold, with deep earnest- 
ness, “spare me the pain of saying more about Flor- 
ence Somerville — Mrs. Downing. I am nearly 
frantic. I was thinking this very moment that it 
was my duty to resign my position with you and beg 
her pardon for the disclosure of our former intimacy 
I was compelled, so unwillingly, to make. 

“Now, now, Doctor, no resignations. It is all 
foolishness. .This will soon blow over, and every- 
thing will be going along as smoothly as if nothing 
of the sort had ever happened.” 

“But, Mr. Averill, why did Mr. Dean ask her if 
she were engaged again and those other horrible 
questions which pointed to me?” 

“My dear boy, you are nervous over this affair. 
You think everybody is pointing the finger of scorn 
at you, when the fact is that you have shown your- 
self to be every inch a man.” 

“I can not believe there is no suspicion of me, but 
I would be glad to meet it if it were in the form of a 
charge. When it is confined to mere suspicion and 
given a wide circulation in that shape, I am left 
without recourse, which is maddening.” 


122 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


Mr. Averill hardly knew how to reply, as he was 
aware that Banall had given the lawyers the clue, 
and was also aware of Banall’s jealousy of Harold. 
He felt, however, that the company could not do 
without either of them, therefore he must smooth 
matters over. 

“You are getting despondent without cause, my 
dear fellow. We are all your friends and can’t get 
along without you. After dinner, as they call the 
noon meal here, we will go boating on Myer’s Lake 
among the fragrant pond lilies. That will dispel 
your little fit of the blues.” 

“It is too far; we cannot get back before the 
session reopens.” 

“Very well, we will go this evening after court.” 

The party repaired together to the dining-room, 
Mr. Averill being careful to keep up a conversation 
leading far from the events of the morning. Having 
finished, they took a roundabout way to the court- 
house for the purpose of seeing some of the beauties 
of the little town. 


CHAPTER XX 


WONDERFUL INTRICACIES OF HEREDITY 

When court reconvened in the afternoon Dr. Glen- 
more, who first examined and prescribed for Arthur, 
was called to the stand. 

“How long have you been practicing your pro- 
fession ?” inquired Mr. Dean. 

“Two years last May.” 

“Since you began practicing have you had any 
patients who were traveling salesmen ?” 

“I have.” 

“Name them.” 

“I do not know that I can name them all.” 

“Did any of them live in Alliance ?” 

“Yes.” 

“Please give their names.” 

“John Freer and Arthur Downing.” 

“The Arthur Downing we know in this case ?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“How many times did you see Mr. Downing as a 
patient ?” 

“Twice.” 

“What was your diagnosis in his case?” 


124 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


“I regard what I may know about my patients as 
a professional secret and ask the protection of the 
court.” 

“Dr. Glenmore,” said the judge, “permit me to 
ask a question that I may understand your meaning. 
Was there a third person present at either time you 
examined this patient ?” 

“Yes, Mr. Doyle was present the second time.” 

“Then,” said the judge, turning about in his big 
chair, “we cannot consider the question privileged. 
You must tell the jury what you know about this 
case.” 

“Dr. Glenmore, please give us your diagnosis in 
the case of Arthur Downing,” continued Mr. Dean. 

“Diabetes mellitus.” 

“Did you find evidence of this disease on his first 
visit?” 

“I did.” 

“What was the date of his first visit?” 

“August thirtieth, previous to his death.” 

“Will you tell the court and jury the process of 
your chemical examination which showed that the 
patient had diabetes ?” 

“I first found the specific gravity of the specimen 
to be 1033 ; examined next for albumen by heat and 
nitric acid — examination, nil. I then poured a 
drachm of Fehling’s solution in a test tube, heated 
it to the boiling point and allowed the specimen to 
run down the side of the inclined tube, drop by drop. 
The sub-oxide of copper was thrown down and 


Wonderful Intricacies of Heredity 125 

appeared first a brick-red precipitate, but when more 
of the specimen was added it turned to a beautiful 
yellow. Sugar was present.” 

'‘When sugar is present what do you call the 
disease ?” 

“Diabetes mellitus. ,, 

“Do you regard the presence of sugar as fatal to 
your patient ?” 

“Yes, if there is more than a trace and it is 
constantly present.” 

“Did you tell Arthur Downing at that time that 
he had a fatal disease ?” 

“I did not.” 

“What did you tell him ?” 

“As nearly as I recollect, I avoided telling him 
the true nature of the disease. I did tell him that he 
was in a condition which was likely to become 
serious if he did not take good care of himself and 
follow closely my instructions as to diet and the 
general care of the body.” 

“Did he show any alarm or surprise at this state- 
ment ?” 

“No, sir; I cannot say that he did.” 

“You say that you examined him in August. Did 
you know that he took out a policy of life insurance 
in September following?” 

“Not until I was so informed about a month after 
his death.” 

“Doctor, define heredity.” 


126 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


“Heredity is the transmission, either directly or 
indirectly, of disease conditions or characteristics 
from a parent or parents to the child. If directly, 
and it is a disease, the disease is apparent at birth; 
if indirectly, it does not appear or exist at birth, but 
a condition of the tissues or organs has been trans- 
mitted, in which exposure to certain after influences 
develops the disease.” 

“Is diabetes directly or indirectly a hereditary 
disease ?” 

“It is.” 

“Do you think it was hereditary in this case? ,, 

“I do from what Mr. Downing told me of his 
grandfather’s death.” 

“Now, Doctor,” said Mr. Dean, picking up the 
application, “Mr. Downing said in this application 
for insurance that he did not know the cause of death 
of his maternal grandfather. We find the grand- 
father died of diabetes, although none of his children 
had the disease. In fact, they are all living, includ- 
ing the mother of Arthur Downing. How do you 
account for the disease appearing in the grandson ?” 

“We call that anomaly atavism. The disease 
appears in one generation, disappears in the next and 
reappears in the grandchildren.” 

“Is this of frequent occurrence ?” 

“No, but sufficiently so to be recognized as a fact 
by medical authorities.” 

The witness was dismissed, and Dr. Goss, who 
made the examination when the policy was taken 


Wonderful Intricacies of Heredity 127 

out, was called. He was very much embarrassed, 
but managed to tell the Court that no sugar was 
found, and that Mr. Downing was a first-class risk 
at the time. He was cross-examined very severely, 
but nothing was developed of importance to either 
side. 

Dr. Fowler, an expert, was called, and after a long 
and tedious examination Mr. Dean asked: “How 
do you account for Dr. Goss not finding sugar when 
he made the examination ?” 

“Either that he does not know how to examine for 
it, that he did not examine the specimen or that sub- 
stitution was practiced.” 

“Would you have regarded Arthur Downing an 
insurable risk, if you had obtained the same results 
as did Dr. Glenmore?” 

“No.” 

“Is not diabetes mellitus a chronic disease, lasting 
for years?” 

“Yes, but it may run an acute course, the patient 
dying in a few weeks or months.” 

“Do you think Mr. Downing’s was an acute case?” 

“I do.” 

Dr. Fowler was dismissed and Dr. Glenmore again 
called to the stand. The plaintiff’s attorney, Mr. 
Beall, began by asking : 

“Dr. Glenmore, have you received any money 
from the Royal Life Company or anybody represent- 
ing them ?” 

“I have not.” 


128 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


“Have you had an offer of money from anybody 
connected with this case?” 

“Yes, from Mr. Banall.” 

“Did you accept it or did you agree to accept it ?” 
“No, sir; neither.” 

“You are dismissed,” said Mr. Beall, sitting down 
and beginning to write. 


CHAPTER XXI 


HAROLD, FLORENCE AND CHARLIE EXCORIATED 

The Somerville servants were called, and also the 
employes of Somerville, Downing & Company, but 
nothing of interest developed. The case was draw- 
ing to a close, interest centering mainly in the com- 
ing speeches of the two opposing lawyers. Florence 
and Harold felt they would be the chief victims of 
sarcasm and ridicule, and were nerving themselves 
for the ordeal. 

Mr. Beall, for the plaintiff, opened by taking up 
the life of Arthur Downing and eulogizing him 
highly. Coming to Harold’s testimony, he carried 
his audience over the Santa Fe road from Chicago 
to Fort Madison; pictured his life in Alaska, his 
longing for the company of this lovely woman and 
his return to Alliance, where she rejected his pro- 
posal of marriage. Then, in eloquent language, he 
pictured the courtship, marriage and unalloyed 
domestic happiness of Florence and Arthur. He 
referred to the circumstances under which the insur- 
ance was taken, and demonstrated plainly that there 
was no fraudulent intention, and that the disease, 
although it may have been latent, developed after the 


130 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


policy was issued. Growing pathetic, he told of the 
sick bed, the suffering and death of the young hus- 
band, with the ever-watchful but grief-stricken wife 
by his side, and concluded with a description of the 
dear old home after the husband and father had gone 
forever, in such affecting language that there was 
not a dry eye in the court-room. 

As he took up that part of Harold’s testimony 
relating to what he described as “scouring Alliance 
to get evidence against the defenseless widow and 
her infant son” his face put on a forbidding scowl. 
He described him as a villain thirsting for revenge 
for the fancied injury to his feelings by Florence’s 
rejection, and declared that the refusal to pay a just 
and honest claim was the result of this one man’s 
vindictiveness. The part was acted so well and the 
language employed was so scathing that the audi- 
tors felt like doing bodily injury to Dr. Wychoff, 
and there was applause as he resumed his seat, which 
was silenced by a stern command from the judge. 

During this speech Mr. Dean sat quietly at his 
table, with eyes fixed on the papers which were 
scattered carelessly about. When Mr. Beall finished 
he arose slowly, took a few steps back from the table 
and commenced his argument. He began with the 
family history, showing the cause of death of every 
member of Arthur Downing’s immediate relatives 
and some of the remote ones. He dwelt on the fact 
that his grandfather died from diabetes mellitus, and 
cited Dr. Glenmore’s definitions of heredity and 


Harold, Florence and Charlie Excoriated 131 

atavism, asserting that the disease was beyond ques- 
tion hereditary in this case. Then, step by step, he 
went over Arthur’s life, showing that his overwork 
as a student and teacher caused such a constant 
strain upon his nervous system that gradually the 
latent disease was developed. The young man, who 
had been a farmer’s boy, a student and teacher, could 
not be at once thrown into the commercial world 
and perform the duties of a traveling salesman with- 
out putting forth great nervous energy and physical 
exertion, and this mental anxiety and physical labor 
had only increased the already growing disease. He 
described the first illness, the visit to Dr. Glenmore, 
and drew an effective word picture of the great 
anguish and distress which followed the knowledge 
that life could last but a few months or a year. 

He made no direct charge, but portrayed vividly, 
so far as permitted by the Court, how the wife, when 
she learned that her husband would live but a few 
years at most, had ingeniously conspired to obtain 
this insurance on his life, in order to make herself the 
possessor of ten thousand dollars, to not a cent of 
which she was entitled. 

Then he followed Charlie from Cornell University 
to Denver, where he went as a gambler; to Des 
Moines; to the house which was broken open and 
rifled of valuables; to the court-room and to the 
penitentiary at Fort Madison. 

He next described the part which Florence had 
taken in effecting her brother’s release, and said there 


132 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


was a close bond of sympathy between this criminal, 
as he called him, and his beautiful sister. He main- 
tained that they were/ not only close friendis as 
brother and sister, but always willing to aid and 
shield each other in crime. No doubt she followed 
his advice in trying to defraud the insurance com- 
pany. 

At this point he referred to the many beautiful 
women of history who had been conspirators in every 
branch of crime, and asserted that beauty and grace 
of manner were frequently only cloaks for perpe- 
trating the most heinous crimes. He dissected every 
answer given by Florence on the witness stand, and 
her outbursts of grief were described as studied and 
well-acted parts in the conspiracy to defraud. 

It was a clear case, he maintained, plain to be seen, 
that the intention was to obtain this large insurance 
to replace the amount lost by fire. 

His speech was one of the most brilliant and 
finished he had ever made. He left no point of law 
or fact untouched or cloudy, and as he closed there 
was a ripple of applause, which, however, did not 
hide the fact that public sympathy was with the 
widow. 


CHAPTER XXII 


DEATH ADJOURNS COURT 

On the morning of the last day of the trial Mr. 
Beall undertook his closing argument, but had not 
proceeded far when the judge let his glasses fall. 
He stooped to pick them up, but struggled upward, 
staggered again and then collapsed. 

Intense excitement prevailed. Everybody crowded 
toward the railing, and deputies and citizens who 
had not lost control of themselves attempted to keep 
the crowd back. The jurymen left the box and were 
mingling with the spectators. Florence and her 
mother, who had come in to hear the closing argu- 
ment of Mr. Beall and to await the verdict, were 
jostled about in the surging and finally forced into 
a corner with Mr. Averill and Judge Holmes, who 
put forth strong exertions to protect them from the 
crush. 

Harold, on seeing the judge fall, leaped over the 
railing to his assistance. Placing him on the floor 
beside his big chair, he made a swift examination. 
He felt the pulse — it was slow and full. He opened 
the eyelids — the pupils were uninfluenced by light 


134 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


and one was much contracted. He glanced at the 
face — it was flushed, the head turned toward the 
left side, and there was drawing in and puffing out 
of the cheeks with each respiration. He picked up 
the arms and allowed them to fall gently to the side. 
One was limp, thoroughly relaxed, and fell to the 
floor like a dead weight; the other was more rigid 
and did not go down with so much force. Looking 
up to Dr. Fowler, he uttered the single word, 
“Apoplexy.” The doctor simply, nodded. Harold 
then placed the patient on his side, elevated the head 
and loosened constricting clothing. 

Court was adjourned indefinitely. The lawyers 
of both sides, glad of a little delay which would 
enable them to fortify their practice at certain points, 
separated, and Mrs. Somerville, Florence and Charlie 
left at once for Alliance to take up the duties which 
had been interrupted by the great trial which had 
proceeded so sensationally and ended so tragically. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


TIT FOR TAT — ZEKE’s “wEDDIN’ SHOES ” 

After leaving the stricken judge Harold hurried 
to the hotel, where Mr. Averill, counting out a 
number of crisp bills to pay for their week’s stay, 
remarked : 

“Doctor, I have packed your bag and have every- 
thing ready for the next train.” 

“I am sorry to have given you this trouble, but I 
was detained at the home of the judge.” 

“Ah, old boy,” said Banall, coming up, smiling, 
and showing to Harold the headlines of a local news- 
paper. “You have made yourself famous. Look at 
this.” 

Banall knew these headlines would cut Harold to 
the heart. His testimony was fully detailed in the 
text, and therein lay the humiliation. 

Putting the paper aside, he said to Mr. Averill : 

“We should be going; if we miss this train we 
shall have to stay over until tomorrow.” 

“That is a capital send-off they gave you, eh?” 
insinuated Banall, trying to make Harold show 
anger before Mr. Averill and Judge Holmes. 


136 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


Harold brought from his pocket, among several 
letters, an envelope containing clippings from news- 
papers. He selected from them one whose headlines 
read : “Melville Banall, Inspector of the Royal Life 
Company, Tries to Bribe Dr. Glenmore. The 
Honest Little Doctor Did Not Take the Bait. 
Prospect of an Indictment for Bribery.” Handing 
this clipping to Banall, he said : 

“Here also is what you call a capital send-off.” 

“It is outrageous that these newspaper sharks are 
permitted to print such libelous stuff about any one !” 
shrieked Banall. 

“Tut, tut, tut! What’s up now?” asked Mr. 
Averill, reaching for the clipping. After he had 
read the headlines he continued : “Well, Banall, Dr. 
Wychoff has been pretty well advertised lately, and 
now that you are prominently mentioned in the 
Cleveland dailies, you should not get angry. There 
is not attached to it half the humiliation Dr. Wyc- 
hoff has suffered in the past week.” 

“Humiliation,” said Banall, scornfully; “if that’s 
all there is behind it I would treat the matter as a 
huge joke.” Then, going closer to Mr. Averill, he 
said, in a low voice : “There is more behind Wyc- 
hoff’s humiliation than you think. He is a sly one 
and is as deep in the mire as the others are in the 
mud of this case.” 

Mr. Averill’s reply was : “Come, Banall, Holmes 
and Wychoff are in the carriage and we shall miss 
the train if we are not careful.” 


Tit for Tat — Zeke’s “Weddin* Shoes” 137 


After being comfortably seated in the Pullman, 
Mr. Averill took out a telegram which he received 
before leaving the hotel and said to Harold, who was 
sitting beside him : 

“This telegram is from Witherall, chairman of the 
Republican State Committee, asking me to do my 
best to settle the difference among the three candi- 
dates for Congress in our district. The convention 
will be held next week. I imagine from the tone of 
this telegram that the feeling among the candidates 
and their friends must be very bitter, and neither can 
be nominated. Knowing that you and I are un- 
pledged delegates, he looks to us for a settlement of 
the difficulties.” 

“I shall be ready to enter into any plans you think 
will be conducive to success,” replied Harold. “Our 
district ought to be redeemed this fall.” 

Banall was rather nervous during the journey to 
Boston. He had been unsuccessful in trying to 
make Harold appear as the actor of a dual part in 
the trial, and was troubled. Since Harold had been 
with the company he had attended strictly to busi- 
ness and was straightforward and honorable, never 
taking advantage of any one’s mistakes. Banall had 
interpreted his probity and modesty as weakness, and 
believed that he could reduce him in the estimate of 
the company and perhaps force his resignation with- 
out incurring strong opposition. That accomplished, 
he himself would be promoted to a higher position 
and be free to work everything to his own advantage. 


138 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


Next morning, after reaching Boston, Mr. Averill 
and Harold repaired to the office and were greeted 
pleasantly, for they were favorites. Harold went 
to his room, followed by several clerks, who osten- 
sibly had business there. Glancing at his desk, he 
exclaimed, pleasantly : 

“Well, well! who has been making me a present 
of a pair of shoes?” 

“Those came by express the other day,” said his 
stenographer. “There is a letter tied to one of them, 
which perhaps will give you an explanation.” 
Harold opened the letter, which was as follows : 

Office Pullman Palace Car Company, 

Chicago, July 12, 18 — 

Dr. Harold D. Wychoff, 

54 Devonshire Street, 

Boston, Mass. 

Dear Sir: To-day we send you by express a 
pair of shoes, which were by mistake put in a closet 
belonging to the porter, and his old shoes, which 
were not intended to be worn during the trip, were 
presumably given to you instead of your own. 

Your card with address was found in section 
number five, which, the conductor informs us, was 
the one occupied by the gentleman who reported the 
loss of a pair of shoes, although the name does not 


Tit for Tat — Zeke’s “Weddin’ Shoes” 139 


correspond to the one on the ticket for that section. 
Should the shoes not belong to you, please return 
them at our expense. 

Very truly yours, 

Pullman Palace Car Company, 

Per W. R. C. 

Finishing the letter, Harold picked up the shoes 
and hurried to Mr. Averill’s room, crying out gayly : 
“Zeke’s shoes!” 

The two indulged in hearty laughter as they 
recalled the incident of the lost shoes. Returning to 
his room, Harold dictated a letter to the Pullman 
people, giving the name and address of the owner, 
and returned the shoes as directed. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


FLORENCE SEES LIGHT 

One Saturday, a few weeks after the return from 
Canton, Florence, Charlie, little Arthur and Mrs. 
Somerville drove to Congress Lake, one of the many 
diamonds which so richly beset the Western Reserve 
of Ohio. 

An outing party was present from Mount Union, 
and among them Miss Walcott. A great crowd of 
excursionists from Massillon soon discovered that 
the beautiful young widow was the one who had 
created so much interest at the trial in Canton a few 
weeks before, and annoyed and embarrassed her 
greatly by their persistent staring and discussions. 
In order to escape this persecution Charlie hired a 
boat and rowed the party to a secluded spot among 
the locusts, on a point of land a mile up the lake, 
which Miss Walcott selected. 

Charlie and his mother having set out for a neigh- 
boring farmhouse for a supply of milk to complete 
the luncheon, Florence and Miss Walcott, who were 
the warmest friends, found themselves alone together 
for the first time in weeks and free to go over each 
other’s joys and sorrows. 


Florence Sees Light 


141 


“Oh, Amy, I hope you will never have the trials 
I have had. At twenty-seven I have had more 
heartaches than a woman of fifty,” said Florence, 
dejectedly. 

“But, Florence, you bear up under them nobly. 
My heart bled for you in the court-house at Canton 
when I saw you under that terrible cross-examina- 
tion. But, then, I was overjoyed to see the good 
effects your answers had on the jury. The day 
before I heard Dr. Wychoff admit his proposal and 
your rejection. I think every one inferred that he 
had never forgotten you.” 

“He was not compelled to tell all that, was he?” 
inquired Florence, with a little show of anger. 

“Yes, indeed; he had to admit everything. 
Charlie had told your lawyers all about the affair 
between you and Harold, so they knew just what 
questions to ask, and the judge said he must answer. 
But, Florence, he did it in such a gentlemanly man- 
ner, under the trying circumstances, that, really, I 
began to like him. .The more I watched him the 
more interested I became. I think he must be very 
noble. He did not seem like anybody else in the 
court-room.” 

“Do you mean to tell me that my own lawyer com- 
pelled Dr. Wychoff to tell all that?” 

“Certainly, he did.” 

“Oh, I never knew that before. What will Dr. 
Wychoff think? What will the world think of me 
before this affair ends? Oh! every one will think 


142 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


me a designing woman — a flirt, a coquette ; but it is 
not true. I did not know Dr. Wychoff’s testimony 
was to be taken, and I am so sorry I ever permitted 
Charlie to go on with the suit. No wonder the 
world treats me with contempt. Oh ! how can I go 
through this terrible affair again? I cannot, I 
cannot.” 

Amy’s arms quickly flew about the sobbing girl, 
and her own tears mingled with those of the widow. 

Charlie at this moment scrambled over a big log 
with a pitcher of milk in his hand, and, seeing the 
two girls in tears, cried out: “Why, what’s the 
matter? Crying at a picnic?” 

“Charlie, I wounded poor Florence,” said Miss 
Walcott, sorrowfully. 

“No, no, brother; she was only telling me some- 
thing about the trial I had never heard.” 

“I suppose it was about that base, revengeful 
Wychoff’s testimony.” 

“Yes, it was,” said Miss Walcott, dubiously. 

“He ought to be in the penitentiary, the scoun- 
drel!” retorted Charlie. 

“He has done nothing to cause you to speak so,” 
said Mrs. Somerville, kindly. “He has conducted 
himself like a high-minded gentleman.” 

“Mother, his vindictiveness caused all this 
trouble.” 

“Charlie, I cannot think so,” said Mrs. Somer- 
ville, in a mild but emphatic way. “From what Mr. 
Garvin told me, the man if he had held revenge in 


Florence Sees Light 


143 


his heart could not have given such heartwringing 
testimony on the witness stand without showing by 
his manner and accent that he meant to deal a blow 
to the one who had inflicted the supposed injury. 
The fact is, you are denouncing your witness, not 
the company’s. His testimony, as he knew it must 
be, was to be used against his company, and used 
effectively, too.” 

“Please do not talk about the trial,” pleaded 
Florence, walking to and fro and pressing little 
Arthur convulsively to her breast. 

After luncheon they watched the boats of the 
excursionists plying over the smooth lake, gathered 
wild flowers and entertained his highness, little 
Arthur, in various ways. Then they rowed back to 
the hotel, and left for Alliance, arriving just as the 
sun’s last rays were playing hide and seek among 
the evergreens and shrubbery on the beautiful lawn 
at Hazelhurst. 


CHAPTER XXV 


Harold's unexpected honor 

Averill and Harold worked hard to effect a recon- 
ciliation among the three candidates for Congress 
before convention day came, but their efforts were 
without avail. However, the candidates agreed on 
Harold for chairman of the convention. Pressing 
business connected with the company prevented him 
from acting as permanent chairman, but he con- 
sented to be the temporary presiding officer, which 
would require perhaps but little time. 

The convention came; Harold was unanimously 
elected temporary chairman, and presided satisfac- 
torily to all parties. The organization having been 
effected, the convention got down to business in 
earnest. As everybody expected, the three candi- 
dates polled about the same number of votes each 
and no choice was made. Vote after vote was taken 
with the same result, save now and then when a 
delegate voted for some one who was not a candi- 
date, thus varying the monotony of the proceedings. 

Mr. Averill spent two days unsuccessfully endeav- 
oring to patch up a peace among the candidates. On 


Harold’s Unexpected Honor 


145 


the third day one of them agreed that if a “dark 
horse” were taken up he would support him with his 
full strength. With this promise Mr. Averill went 
to the other candidates and made a truce with them, 
and the convention adjourned until two o’clock. 

Harold had been absent most of the day, and Mr. 
Averill had been working alone. During the recess 
the efforts of the old peacemaker were effective, and 
when the convention was called to order again 
everything had been arranged satisfactorily; the 
deadlock was broken. 

After the chairman rapped the noisy delegates to 
order one of the candidates arose and in a neat 
speech withdrew in favor of Dr. Harold D. Wyc- 
hoff, followed at once by his two companions in a 
similar vein. The convention had been in session 
so long that the delegates were ready for the change 
and went wild. Hats, canes and coats were thrown 
into the air, and shouts and hurrahs shook the hall, 
followed by calls of “Wychoff, Wychoff! Speech, 
speech !” 

The chairman explained that Dr. Wychoff was not 
present, but, having been sent for, would be present 
soon. 

Mr. Averill jumped into a carriage as soon as the 
result was known and hurried to the company’s office 
on Devonshire street, where he found Harold very 
busy with a claimant. In a moment the two were 
rolling swiftly toward the convention hall, Harold 
ignorant of what had occurred. On their arrival 


146 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


they moved up the aisle arm in arm. As soon as 
Harold was observed a shout of welcome went up, 
and two big delegates picked him up and carried him 
to the platform. The noise was deafening — every- 
body was shouting, pounding the floor and hurrah- 
ing. As they reached the platform the chairman 
shouted above the din : 

“Allow me to congratulate you on your nomina- 
tion as our candidate for Congress. ,, 

“What? This — this is a good joke.” 

Whack, whack, whack, fell the chairman’s gavel, 
and then Harold discovered what had been done. 
He was embarrassed, but the cheers straightened him 
out, and he made a brief but sincere and taking 
speech and the convention adjourned satisfied and 
happy. 

It was one of those unexpected affairs which 
bring warring elements together in such a way as 
to bury past hatreds and vindictiveness, and the 
defeat of the Democratic nominee seemed more than 
probable, although the district went Democratic two 
years before. Mr. Averill was bubbling over with 
delight, but Harold, generally cool and thoughtful, 
was dazed — he hardly realized whether what had 
happened was a dream, a joke or a reality. 

The news of his nomination was flashed over the 
wires to every part of the country, and was the talk 
of the Boston politicians. Harold was compara- 
tively unknown, neither a great lawyer nor a prom- 
inent politician, but a physician and an insurance 


Harold’s Unexpected Honor 


147 


man — a strange combination for a candidate for 
Congress in a district which was conceded to be 
only fighting ground for his party ; yet wherever he 
was known his probity and sincerity made him very 
strong. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


WICKED BOSTON POLITICS 

Immediately after Harold’s nomination Mr. 
Averill set to work preparing for the campaign. He 
secured as chief stenographer a young man who was 
familiar with the politics of the district and with the 
duties of a Congressman. Harold’s experience with 
the insurance company had taught him to write 
adroit and invulnerable letters — an exceedingly val- 
uable accomplishment for a politician — and the first 
week or two of active campaign work went off 
smoothly. But one morning he awoke to find the 
leading paper of the opposition exploiting his testi- 
mony at Canton, the facts being so badly distorted 
as to be hardly recognized even by himself. He 
hastily dressed and went to the room of Mr. Averill, 
who, propped up in bed, was reading with such close 
attention as not to notice his caller. 

“Mr. Averill, look at this cowardly attack on me,” 
said he, offering the paper. 

“I am just reading it. Isn’t it singular how these 
educated and high-minded editors can take a grain 
of truth and make a mountain of falsehood out of 
it?” 


Wicked Boston Politics 


149 


“1 would not object if they had confined them- 
selves to the truth, but when they say that after I 
was rejected three times by Florence Somerville I 
continued to harass the poor girl with letters and 
unwelcome visits, and that the father and brother 
had to come to her rescue to protect her from my 
ungentlemanly conduct — oh ! it is too much.” 

After pacing the floor with clenched fists for a 
time he continued : “.The objection on the part of 
the young lady and her family, the paper asserts, was 
that my ancestors were the worst and lowest people 
in Eastern Ohio and that I, as a young man, was a 
vile wretch — everything but what a young man 
should be. Farther along it is stated that my true 
nature, contemptible as it would appear by these 
statements, was shown when I used my influence 
and testimony to prevent the same lady from secur- 
ing the insurance money that was justly due her. 
It is atrocious. Mr. Averill, how can I go through 
a campaign of slander like this 

“Well, Doctor,” said he, rolling up a little higher 
on his big pillows, “we must give our papers data 
to correct these misrepresentations, and that will not 
be such a hard task. You are not used to the mud- 
slinging of a Boston campaign, and it goes hard at 
first. This is a small matter ; all will be well in the 
end. To-day we will prepare a statement, and take 
it or send it to every one of our papers in Boston, 
which will counteract the effects of this morning’s 
article. Don’t be disheartened, my boy. Every 


150 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


one who runs for office in this city has to contend 
with the same horrible methods. ,, 

“You certainly have never had anything like this 
to meet in any of your campaigns, I hope.” 

“My dear Doctor, most assuredly. Did not my 
opponents publish that I went to Utah and was one 
of Brigham Young’s coadjutors, with several wives 
and a half dozen children? At the period they 
mentioned I was actually in Utah and Colorado, 
and it cost me several hundred dollars to prove, not 
only to the public, but to some of my friends, that I 
had never been guilty of such an outrage against 
society. The husband of several wives and the 
father of a half dozen polygamous children — think 
of it!” 

“Well, it is encouraging to know that I am not the 
only one who has been vilely slandered.” 

“Oh, this is just a little by-play they are getting 
up to obscure the real issue,” responded Mr. Averill, 
soothingly. “Ah,” said he, finishing the article and 
throwing the paper on the bed, “that is a very poor 
slander. We can answer that so satisfactorily that 
it will do you good instead of harm.” 

“I hope so, Mr. Averill,” said he, retiring to the 
library, where a heavy mail awaited attention. 

“Now, Doctor,” said Mr. Averill’s sister, Mrs. 
Hallam, in the evening, “now, Doctor, you must not 
take such things as this morning’s surprise to heart. 
The way of the politician is hard and the end un- 
certain. But I have a plan which will give the other 


Wicked Boston Politics 151 

party something to think about and write about, 
too.” 

“Ah, Mollie,” said Mr. Averill, “you always have 
resources when every one else fails. Let us have 
your plans.” 

“You know Mr. Dodge, the Democratic candi- 
date, and Mr. McCreary, the banker, have been 
intimate friends since boyhood. Recently, owing to 
some financial misunderstanding, they have become 
bitter enemies. I shall have a dinner at our resi- 
dence and invite Mr. McCreary. Between the wine 
and the walnuts we shall get from him all of Mr. 
Dodge's past history. A little of this you can dole 
out to your papers every morning from now until 
election, and keep the opposition on the defensive by 
always having something for them to answer. 
Reserve the best of these biographical sketches for 
the last few days of the campaign, of course. In 
other words, keep the papers of the opposition busy 
apologizing for their candidate and they will not 
have time to hunt for the wild-oats sowings of our 
candidate. 

Mr. Averill slapped the book he held in his hand 
and exclaimed : “Capital, Mollie ! A scheme which 
will put the enemy to flight. We must carry it out. 
Fix the date, and we will have the dinner,” said he, 
going over to read some of the telegrams Harold 
was opening. 

“Thursday night ; will that do ?” 


152 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


The plan was carried out and worked admirably. 
Mr. McCreary gave sufficient from Mr. Dodge's 
past to make very racy reading for the public every 
day until election, with an overplus to be dumped 
into the waste basket. 

Excitement was now the order of the day. Every- 
body was talking politics and the campaign was at 
white heat. Harold and Mr. Averill were feeling 
comfortable, as they had been able, through Mrs. 
Hallam’s suggestion, to worry the opposition very 
much. Toward the close, however, the newsboys 
called out : “Afternoon paper ! All about Dr. 
Wychoff and the number tens." Harold bought a 
paper. The large headlines over a Chicago dispatch 
accused him of appropriating a pair of expensive 
shoes while occupying a berth in a sleeping car from 
New York to Bellaire, which he expressed to Boston ; 
but, on his return, finding they were number tens, 
and two sizes too large for him, sent them to the 
Pullman Palace Car Company in Chicago with the 
excuse that they were taken by mistake. 

Next day “number tens" was on every tongue in 
the city — it Had been given to the public in both 
prose and poetry, and the newsboys took delight in 
howling it from every corner and in every alley. 

Harold’s enthusiasm was shaken. He felt there 
was hardly time to counteract the influence of the 
cowardly onslaught. His thoughts ran quick and 
fast. Who did it? What must be done? He at 
once fastened the blame on Banall, and the more he 


Wicked Boston Politics 


153 


thought about it the more he was convinced that 
the entire list of dastardly newspaper attacks origin- 
ated with him. He did not, as usual, wait to con- 
sult Mr. Averill, but repaired to the office of the 
company, and immediately asked for Banall. He 
was not there. Harold was boiling with rage, yet 
his manner indicated nothing more than the ordinary 
determination of purpose. 

“Have you seen this afternoon’s paper, Milton?” 
he asked of his stenographer. 

“Yes, I have.” 

“Do you know whether any one in this office 
wrote that article about me, or had anything to do 
with it?” 

“I do not. I am certain none of the clerks knew 
anything about it.” 

“Has Banall been here to-day ?” 

“He was here this morning, but left in an hour.” 

“What was his appearance — was he perfectly 
natural, or did he appear to be in an unusually good 
humor ?” 

“He appeared to be troubled about something.” 

“Has he been much occupied with the company’s 
business, or has he been doing something which took 
up his time, but which had no connection with the 
office?” 

“He has spent several hours each day with Mr. 
McClaire, the lawyer, on the next floor.” 

“Is Mr. McClaire a politician, and what is his 
politics?” 


154 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


‘■He is a mugwump and dabbles a little in 
politics/’ 

Harold arose and began to pace the floor. He 
remembered Banall’s habit, when writing anything 
important, of making several copies before the final 
draft pleased him, tearing up the unsatisfactory 
ones for the waste basket. 

“Where do they put the waste paper about this 
building?” he inquired, abruptly. 

“In a storage room on the top floor.” 

“Will you get the key from the janitor and go 
with me to that room?” 

“It is never locked. We can go right up now.” 

In a few minutes both were busy hunting through 
the old envelopes, scraps of writing paper, news- 
papers and the chaotic- pile of debris which such a 
room contains. Presently Harold found a scrap of 
paper on which was Banall’s big, bold penmanship, 
but it was too small to be of value. However, 
another and another came to light until they found 
one with a part of McClaire’s letter-head. Putting 
several pieces together, they readily saw that the 
information they were seeking had been discovered, 
and continued the search until every part of the 
sheets containing the “number tens” yarn had been 
found. Harold put them in an envelope and, tele- 
phoning for a cab, proceeded rapidly to Mr. Averill, 
whom he found busy preparing his last speech of the 
campaign. The doors were closed, and when the 
two men came out Mr. Averill looked pale and 


Wicked Boston Politics 


155 


troubled, while Harold seemed full of nervous 
energy and aggressive determination. 

Telegrams and letters were sent in every direction, 
and the morning papers contained a denial, with a 
telegram from the Pullman Palace Car Company 
which was wholly satisfactory. But much time is 
required to eradicate a false statement from the 
minds of the people in a hot political campaign, and 
the Chicago dispatch seemed likely to cost many 
votes. 

On Saturday night before election day the party 
made its last showing in the way of speeches and a 
torchlight parade. The reviewing stand and the 
streets were packed with people anxious to see and 
hear the final effort of a great political struggle. 
The procession was headed by one of Boston’s most 
famous bands, and immediately behind them was a 
small wagon bearing a pair of shoes large enough to 
hold an entire family. Over the shoes was a trans- 
parency labeled “Number Tens,” in big, bold letters, 
and behind the wagon marched several thousand 
large, handsome fellows carrying torches, and each 
having a pair of large shoes thrown over his 
shoulder. Throughout the long procession were 
banners and transparencies inscribed : “We All 
Wear Number Tens,” “We Are .Not Afraid of 
Having Our Number Tens Appropriated,” “Num- 
ber Tens and Victory,” and so on. 

All along the line of march, as this unique part of 
the procession passed, cheer after cheer went up 


156 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


from the throngs that lined the streets, but when it 
reached the reviewing stand the climax was reached. 
The cheers were so long and so loud that they 
sounded like the roar of a volcano. The bands, 
steam whistles and all other noises were drowned 
when the multitude broke forth in wild shouts for 
“Number Tens.” 

The last shot of the campaign was a success — 
there was no doubt about it. “Number Tens” now 
meant votes and victory. 

Harold and Mr. Averill retired at two o'clock on 
the night of the election, the votes uncertain, several 
precincts still uncounted. Being unable to sleep, 
Harold arose at four and descended to the library, 
where Mr. Averill had a telegraph instrument and 
an operator. The news had not been encouraging, 
but before morning, after a long silence, a sharp, 
decisive call brought the operator quickly to the 
instrument. Click, click, click — 

“Wychoff elected by a small majority!” he 
shouted. 

Relieved of the long tension, and victorious, 
Harold was indeed happy — as happy as one can be 
who has no one with whom to share his joy. Con- 
cluding not to arouse the household, he returned to 
his room to try again to sleep. A thousand recollec- 
tions crowded his mind, memory tracing every scene 
of his life back to the days of his childhood. 

“Mother, father, Florence!” 


Wicked Boston Politics 


157 


The one was lost to him, the others had passed to 
the great beyond. 

“Alone, alone,” whispered every thought and 
recollection of the past. Thus he fell to sleep, and 
in dreams his sainted mother came to share his 
triumphs, while the graceful form of a sweet and 
lovely young woman passed farther and farther into 
the disappearing vista. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


FLORENCE REDUCED TO POVERTY 

The great insurance trial had brought out many 
things which were not known to the people of 
Alliance nor to the customers of Somerville, Down- 
ing & Company. Previously but few knew that 
Charlie had spent a term in the penitentiary. Now 
it was common fame, and traveling salesmen repre- 
senting other grocery houses used the fact to the 
disadvantage of Somerville, Downing & Company. 
These enterprising but unscrupulous persons declared 
that “the member of a firm who has spent a term in 
prison and is interested in defrauding an insurance 
company certainly will not be above taking advan- 
tage of those with whom he has dealings.” This 
argument had its effect, and the firm’s splendid busi- 
ness began to dwindle and to go to other concerns. 

The new year was but a few weeks off and 
expenses must be cut. In order to do so dismissals 
were made from the traveling force, and those 
remaining were urged to put forth every effort to 
gain new business. They obeyed, but were defeated 
by the base stories which had been put in circulation 
among buyers. 


Florence Reduced to Poverty 159 

Charlie began to show signs of meditative despon- 
dency. Little Arthur, when evening came, pointed 
to the violin and Charlie, handing his charge over to 
Florence, always took up the instrument, but the 
notes did not suit him and the strings seemed to 
be poor and weak. Finally, getting everything 
adjusted and readjusted, he snatched bars from here 
and there, halted, wandered, improvised, making a 
wild, melancholy, sometimes sweet and sometimes 
woeful discourse. The violin was speaking the 
thoughts of a troubled soul. 

The effect was so saddening that Florence gener- 
ally interrupted by suggesting that he accompany 
her at the piano, which resulted in something more 
pleasant. 

Every day was bringing the firm nearer bank- 
ruptcy, and Charlie was looking forward with 
anguish to the time when his mother, sister and little 
Arthur would be reduced from affluence to self- 
denial. Florence and her mother marked the altered 
look and stifled sigh, and were not deceived by his 
occasional vapid attempts at cheerfulness. Florence, 
by all the arts of her sunny nature, attempted to win 
him back to his old-time cheerfulness, and Mrs. 
Somerville ministered to his wants with more moth- 
erly care than ever; but the more they gave him 
cause to love them the more he was tortured by the 
thought that he was soon to make them wretched. 
The time finally came when he could keep the harsh 


160 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


tidings from them no longer; yet how could he tell 
them ? 

“Charlie, something is troubling you,” said Flor- 
ence. 

“Yes, sister,” said he, throwing himself on the 
piano, burying his face in his arms. “The firm must 
make an assignment. Everything is lost; we are 
poor.” 

“Is that all, brother?” asked Florence, throwing 
her arms about his neck. 

“Is that not enough? You do not realize the 
changes we must undergo. Mother, little Arthur 
and you must come to the want and humiliations of 
poverty. Oh ! how can I see it, how can I see it?” 

“Charlie, calm yourself. If we must give up the 
luxuries and the life we have been living, we must 
also put away pride and have the courage to appear 
poor ; that's all. It will not hurt us.” 

“Sister, you are an angel. The misery is over, 
yet I have been suffering for months the harassing 
pretense of affluence when I knew I was ruined.” 

The assignment was made. Beautiful Hazel- 
hurst, with its elegant grounds and ample house, 
passed into the hands of a banker. The piano and 
a few paintings were rescued for the little cottage 
Charlie leased down by Mahoning, but that was all. 

There were no regrets, no shedding of tears or 
looks of disappointment when the day for moving 
came. It was a clear, cold morning, the horses 
loaned by neighbor Marshall were spirited, the snow 


Florence Reduced to Poverty 161 

creaked under the runners and the occupants of the 
sleigh enjoyed the exhilarating winter air. Alight- 
ing in front of the little paling gate, they walked 
through the snow-covered path to the porch, where 
Charlie, who had gone a few hours before to pre- 
pare the fires, welcomed them to their new home. 
Observing the open grate fire, the clean, white- 
washed walls and comfortable furniture, Florence 
exclaimed : 

“What a cozy little home! This is delightful! 
Now for playing Biddy,” she added, laughing and 
moving gayly toward the little kitchen, humming a 
bar from “Robin Hood,” to make preparations for 
the evening meal. 

After tea Charlie added big lumps of bituminous 
coal to the already cheerful fire, which soon blazed 
like liquid gold, shooting up over the angled back 
wall and shedding cheerful light through the modest 
little room. Florence and Charlie joined sweetly 
and cheerily on the piano and violin, while Mrs. 
Somerville, with little Arthur on her lap, rocked 
soothingly to and fro in a big wicker chair before 
the grate. .The very walls of the old house smiled 
with delight at the cheerful simplicity and delicious 
harmony of the new home. 

Charlie obtained a position with a grocer firm, 
but as his salary was not enough to support the 
little family of four, Florence determined to make 
an effort to secure pupils in instrumental and vocal 
music. Miss Marshall, the daughter of a wealthy 


162 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


manufacturer, had just returned from six years at 
Vassar and became a stanch friend, and Miss 
Walcott was more devoted than ever. These two 
ladies were constant visitors, and heartily entered 
into Florence’s plans to secure pupils. Within a 
month the two little nieces of Miss Marshall and 
several other students were making three visits a 
week to the little buff cottage. Florence, ever sweet 
and gentle, soon won their hearts, and they sounded 
her praises until she had all the pupils she could 
teach. 

The little house became a veritable conservatory. 
Florence worked early and late, and was gaining 
something of a reputation as a teacher, but the men- 
tion of her name still caused gossip about her con- 
nection with the insurance of her husband’s life. 
She surmised, from the manner in which she had 
been treated by many of her old acquaintances, that 
she had been the subject of uncomplimentary dis- 
cussion, but felt that the real cause was not the 
insurance matter but the reduction from a position 
of luxury and comfort, in which they were able to 
entertain handsomely, to one of a bare living. 

Every Sunday saw her at church, accompanied by 
the entire family. Their costly pew had been ex- 
changed for one in a remote corner, more in keeping 
with their financial condition ; but, instead of warmth 
and welcome, the same cold and cruel treatment they 
had received when Charlie came home from prison 


Florence Reduced to Poverty 163 

was shown them by nearly all the members of the 
church. 

The Marshall’s, however, father, mother and 
daughter, were more kind and considerate than ever. 
The young Vassar graduate never missed an oppor- 
tunity to stop at the almost secluded pew to greet 
the former owners of Hazelhurst, and frequently 
took a seat beside Florence. These little courtesies, 
in sharp contrast to the actions of many so-called 
Christian worshippers at the church, were thor- 
oughly appreciated, and helped to make life bearable. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


ANOTHER DECISIVE VICTORY 

For several days following the election Harold 
remained at home, receiving the congratulations of 
his friends, clearing up accumulated correspondence, 
resting from the labors of the campaign and pre- 
paring to fight another battle — the battle with 
Banall. The officers of the company had been 
apprised of the trouble and of Harold’s determina- 
tion to bring matters to a crisis, and used every 
precaution to keep the two men from meeting. 
Finally, the board of directors was called together 
and Harold in an eloquent and decided way uttered 
his charges. Banall denied them sneeringly, making 
a counter-charge that Harold was an accomplice in 
what he termed the insurance fraud of Mr. Down- 
ing. Harold, with eyes aflame, tore the wrapper 
from a piece of pasteboard, and said : 

“Gentlemen, it is useless for Melville Banall to 
deny these charges. I have the originals in his own 
handwriting,” handing to the nearest member of 
the board, Mr. Warner, one of Banall’s best friends, 
the original of the slanderous attacks that had 


Another Decisive Victory 165 

appeared in the newspapers, neatly joined and pasted 
on a sheet of card. 

The directors crowded around Mr. Warner and 
saw instantly that the culprit had been caught. 
Banall glanced at the letters, clasped his hands, 
threw himself forward on the table and exclaimed, 
“My God !” 

He was taken from the room by some of his 
friends and sent to his home on Beacon street, 
whence his resignation was promptly forwarded. 
His accounts with the company were quickly settled, 
the resignation accepted, and he left the city, going 
no one knew whither. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


FLORENCE SUDDENLY AGREES TO COMPROMISE 

One evening Charlie brought home a letter from 
Lawyer Garvin, stating that the suit against the 
Royal Life Company was set for October fifth, and 
he wished 'Florence and Charlie to come to his office 
for the purpose of going over the testimony given 
more than a year before. 

“Mr. Garvin,” pleaded Florence, “how can I touch 
this money? It always appeared to me to be the 
price of my husband’s life, and in order to get it I 
must face hated publicity and an impertinent round 
of questions on the stand and be accused of com- 
plicity in a heinous crime. I cannot do that.” 

“But, Mrs. Downing, you are justly entitled to 
the ten thousand dollars, and you would be doing a 
great injustice to your little son if you did not make 
every effort to obtain it.” 

This argument reached the mother’s heart; she 
would go on. 

October fifth came, and the suit of Downing vs. 
The Royal Life Company was called. Harold, Mr. 
Averill and Judge Holmes had arrived and taken 


Florence Suddenly Agrees to Compromise 167 

seats at the table set aside for lawyers. The new 
judge was informed that a compromise had been 
proposed, and adjourned court until afternoon to 
give time for its consideration. President Averill 
had been doing some earnest thinking, and feared, 
first, that the suit would go against the company 
and, second, that even the suspicion of fraud would 
be disestablished. He therefore invited a confer- 
ence of the attorneys at a private room in the hotel, 
and after some sharp wrangling reached a conclu- 
sion whereby the beneficiary was to receive much 
less than the face of the policy and all expenses of 
the suit, if she would accept it. 

Mr. Garvin called a cab and soon had Florence 
and her mother at the hotel. All arose as the ladies 
entered and took seats at the table. Florence listened 
attentively to the terms proposed and, after consult- 
ing a few moments with Mr. Garvin, agreed to 
accept. Without a word she signed the printed 
receipt on the back of the policy and, with her 
mother, quietly left the room. The case was stricken 
from the calendar, and every one connected with it 
felt relieved and happy. 


CHAPTER XXX 

WRECKED IN THE NIGHT 

The great railroad strike which tied up many of 
the Western roads was reaching the Pittsburg, Fort 
Wayne and Chicago. A train was due at Canton 
at five o’clock, going east, which it was thought 
might be the last one for several days. It was four 
hours late, and the large crowd in waiting scrambled 
sharply for seats. Mr. Averill, Judge Holmes and 
Harold were forced into a crowded sleeper, and 
Florence and her mother were squeezed into one of 
the day coaches. 

The train drew out cautiously but, once in the 
country, increased to the usual speed. Everybody 
had become fairly comfortable, when a grating jar, 
a shock, a crash and a sensation of falling was 
followed by the groans and cries of passengers, 
mangled and pinioned in wreckage. 

Florence was fastened in between two seats, but 
her right hand and arm had been forced through the 
window, and she felt blood trickling down her wrist. 
Withdrawing it and removing a small point of glass, 
she tightly grasped the wounded member with the 


Wrecked in the Night 


169 


left hand and almost checked the bleeding. In a 
moment one of the seats began to move, and a man 
who spoke English with a foreign accent inquired : 

“Madam, are you injured ?" 

“I have great pain in my wrist/' 

The seat was wrenched away and strong arms 
lifted and carried her safely out of the car. Flor- 
ence urged her rescuer to help her mother. He did 
not want to leave her, feeling in the darkness that 
the wrist hemorrhage was profuse. She insisted, 
and in a few moments he came out with Mrs. Somer- 
ville, bruised and shocked, but not seriously injured. 

The sleeper containing the insurance party did not 
leave the track, and its passengers rushed out to aid 
in the rescue. Harold and Mr. Averill forced open 
the doors of an upturned coach and liberated a 
woman who was very badly injured and uncon- 
scious. They carried her to a nearby farmhouse, 
where Harold, aided by a dim oil lamp, made an 
examination. She was fatally injured and immedi- 
ately expired. As he turned, a tall, muscular man 
brought in another victim with blood spurting from 
the right wrist in intermittent jets. He sprang 
forward, caught the arm, forced back the sleeve and 
placed his thumb on the ulnar artery. As the gush- 
ing ceased the eyes of doctor and victim met. 

“Mrs. Downing," he stammered, “I am indeed 
sorry for your misfortune, but I am glad to be where 
I can relieve you." 


170 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


“You are very kind,” she said, in a sinking voice. 

She was placed on a cot, with its foot elevated, 
in a little room just off the old-fashioned porch, 
while Harold made a tourniquet of his handkerchief 
and a piece of broomstick. This implement checked 
the hemorrhage until he could secure a case of 
instruments and some surgical dressings which he 
always carried in his traveling bag. 

The application of a little cocaine, a rapid incision 
to expose the spurting artery, a ligature around the 
bleeding vessel above and below the wound, a few 
stitches to bring the edges of the incision together, 
a little antiseptic powder, some cotton, a bandage 
neatly applied^— and Florence was safe from the 
hemorrhage that had been threatening her life. 
Her face was blanched and her lips were pale, but 
the pulse was good, considering the amount of blood 
that had been lost. As he was preparing some medi- 
cine for her the tall stranger came and announced 
that others badly injured required attention. Ad- 
ministering the drug and convincing himself that 
it was safe to leave Florence with the farmer’s wife, 
who had been his assistant, he went to the relief of 
those outside. 

The little farmhouse was full of crying, moaning, 
shrieking humanity, and many crushed and mangled 
were also suffering outside. After working awhile 
among these, he gave instructions to those assisting 
him and returned to the little room, where he found 
Florence much better. Lowering the foot of the 


Wrecked in the Night 171 

couch and saying a few cheerful words, he resumed 
his labors among the wounded. 

Next time he looked in she was sleeping soundly, 
with the good housewife kneeling beside the couch 
and tenderly holding the injured arm. 

At four o’clock the next morning,- worn out with 
the night’s heavy work, he lay down on some hay 
in the barn for a little rest and immediately fell 
asleep. At sunrise he was awakened by a person 
stumbling over him as he was passing through the 
barn. 

“Dr. Wychoff! How glad I am to see you!” 
exclaimed the tall stranger with the foreign accent, 
extending both hands. 

“I beg your pardon; have I never seen you 
before ?” 

“Do you not remember Count Kolopinski?” 

“Yes; but you are not the Count.” 

“Look at that finger ; do you not remember ampu- 
tating it while in Alaska?” 

“Yes, yes,” said Harold, and they fell to hugging 
each other like school girls. Two dreary winters 
in Alaska, deprived of the comforts of civilized 
lands, had firmly cemented their friendship. 

“Count, you are so changed that I do not feel 
entirely certain that I am not being imposed upon. 
Your eyes seem different, and the expression of 
your face is not as it was five years ago and — your 
voice, it is that of another man. I can ^hardly 
believe you are my old friend, whose sublime music 


172 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


kept me from suicide during the long, dismal night 
of an Alaskan winter. What has made this mar- 
velous change ?” 

“One of your profession, my dear fellow. You 
know I have been an exile from my native land and 
all I love for ten years, but longing to return if I 
could do so without detection. The young doctor 
who was your successor in Alaska remained but one 
year, and then settled in San Francisco and took up 
the eye as a specialty. He sent me pamphlets telling 
about his successes and photographs of patients on 
whom he had operated. The change in the expres- 
sions of these patients was so marked that I deter- 
mined to submit myself to him, and if thereby my 
facial appearance should be sufficiently altered I 
would return to my native land under the assumed 
name of Carl Peterson. A few touches of the knife 
corrected, as he said, exophoria in one eye and pro- 
duced esophoria in the other. Then he gave the 
muscles of my face attention. A few incisions, a 
number of ligatures and I looked like a Choctaw 
chief returning from war. Under careful treatment 
no mark of the knife was left, and the result is what 
you see.” 

“But your voice — it has not the same deep reson- 
ance it once had.” 

“That, too, was altered by a few strokes of the 
scalpel.” 


Wrecked in the Night 


173 


“My dear Count, your own mother would not 
recognize you. There will be no danger of your 
arrest and imprisonment when you return to 
Russia.” 

“I know it, and I am happy.” 


CHAPTER XXXI 


WHAT A WRECK MAY BRING FORTH 

The strike was complete. Not a wheel was turn- 
ing on the Pittsburg, Fort Wayne and Chicago. 
There was no communication with the wreck except 
by wagon from Canton or Alliance, but next day 
those whose physical condition would permit 
removal were taken by carriage to the former city. 
Mr. Marshall and his daughter came over from 
Alliance in their carriage to tender their assistance. 
Mrs. Somerville was able to return, but Florence 
was too weak from loss of blood, and remained at 
the farmhouse, with Miss Marshall as her nurse. 

Harold was very busy attending to the injured, 
but the inmates of the little room off the porch 
received very frequent and tender visits. His self- 
composure and intelligent, earnest work won the 
love of the unfortunate victims ; all looked forward 
to his coming with pleasure. 

Owing to the circumstances under which the 
operation upon Florence’s arm was performed, he 
had been unable to take aseptic and antiseptic precau- 
tions; therefore he was very solicitous about the 


What a Wreck May Bring Forth 175 

result and dressed the wound with minute care. 
This scrupulous attention, together with good 
nursing, soon showed its effectiveness. In a few 
days she was able to sit up and be moved out into 
the October sun. Here Harold, Miss Marshall, Mr. 
Averill and Carl Peterson (the Count), who had 
become quite a favorite, congregated into a very 
entertaining group. 

Florence usually occupied her cot, which was 
carried out by Harold and the Count, and Miss 
Marshall and Mr. Averill enjoyed the luxury of two 
old-fashioned home-made rockers. 

Frequently, after a pleasant half hour or more 
under the big tree, Miss Marshall and the Count, 
who had become very good friends, followed by Mr. 
Averill, left Florence in the Doctor’s care and 
rambled about the pleasant old farm. 

“Out of Egypt,” shouted the Count on the sixth 
day, advancing rapidly from the railroad track. “A 
track walker informs me that we are to have a train 
in the morning. Hurrah! But, Miss Marshall,” 
with a broad smile and a changed tone, lifting his 
hat, “if you were to remain, I could stay here until 
the year two thousand.” 

“What a flatterer you are, Mr. Peterson. Mr. 
Averill never indulges in such overdrawn state- 
ments,” she rejoined, jocularly. 

“Oh,” said Mr. Averill, “I would add a thousand 
years more. But what time may we expect this 
relief train tomorrow?” 


176 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


“At nine in the morning, and it will take away 
the injured who are able to travel,” said the Count. 

Florence was much improved, and appeared that 
evening at the plain but ample dinner table, spread 
with a red cloth and laden with the abundant sub- 
stantiate for which Ohio is famous. She was quite 
herself again, and was the same ideal, lovable, win- 
some woman she had always been. She was given 
the seat at the head of the table,’ with Harold on one 
side and Miss Marshall on the other. 

“This is a pleasant surprise,” said the Count as 
he entered, “to see our charming invalid looking so 
fresh and rosy and apparently ready for a good 
dinner. Mrs. Downing, I congratulate you on your 
splendid recovery.” 

“.Thank you, but I should be congratulated rather 
for having such a good nurse, excellent physician 
and considerate friends,” said she, smiling. 

“Ah, Mrs. Downing,” said Mr. Averill, in his 
pleasing manner, as he seated himself between the 
Count and a stranger who was a victim of the wreck, 
“I am glad to see that you are able to join us at 
dinner. How well you look. Had it not been for 
the strike we should not have had the pleasure of 
enjoying a week in such charming society.” 

The evening was spent in preparing to depart, but 
Florence and Harold found two whole hours for 
confidential and happy intercourse, which did not 
escape the attention of the more observant. 


What a Wreck May Bring Forth 177 

Next morning all was hurry to get aboard the 
train. A short run brought them to Alliance, where 
Harold and the Count saw Florence and Miss 
Marshall safely to Oakdale, the beautiful home of 
the Marshalls. They had been informed at the 
station that a through train would arrive in a few 
hours, and they hurried back in order to join Mr. 
Averill for the trip to Boston. 


CHAPTER XXXII 

THE PAST STRUGGLES WITH THE FUTURE 

As Florence improved rapidly she began to look 
back over the six happy days she had spent with 
Harold at the farmhouse. He had proposed again 
and she had accepted, but how were the difficulties 
which now confronted her to be surmounted ? 
There were little Arthur and her mother — and 
Charlie was very hostile toward Harold. How was 
she to bring these discordant elements together? 
Had she really accepted ? Did she love him ? Here- 
tofore she had not analyzed her own feelings, but 
now she was taking an inventory. During her 
illness she had anticipated with great pleasure his 
visits each day, and, in fact, many times a day. 
What were these feelings? Certainly something 
more substantial than passing friendship. She 
recalled the entire period of their acquaintanceship, 
and here and there came floating into her mind 
thoughts to which she had never given expression. 
Yes, she had always remembered — but her life had 
been so busy with trials and cares that these thoughts 
had been crowded out — never had a chance to grow. 


The Past Struggles with the Future 179 

Turning to the window, the lawn was brown and 
sere with the advancing frosts of October, and the 
memory of Arthur, whose grave had seen the snows 
of three winters, came to her like a flash. She burst 
into tears and her mind became a mere jumble — a 
chaos. As thoughts began to arrange themselves in 
order again she cried aloud: “Oh! what shall I 
do?” 

As the last words escaped her lips Miss Marshall 
came in, and was surprised to find her in tears. 
They sat down together, and Florence went over the 
whole story, concluding: “I will ask you as I did 
myself, what shall I do ?” 

“Marry him. Any woman ought to be proud to 
be his wife.” 

“But will I do justice to the one who is gone, to 
my little boy, to mother and brother ?” 

“Certainly; and you would be doing a great 
wrong to yourself and the man who has waited all 
these years for you if you should not become his 
wife. Don’t worry about the little affairs which 
seem to be so prominent now. In time they will 
adjust themselves, will wear away and be gone.” 

Florence said nothing, but buried her face in her 
hands for a few moments. Then, looking up, she 
said thoughtfully : “Only a little more than a 
month and I will be Harold Wychoff’s bride. Can 
it be possible? Am I dreaming?” 


180 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


Miss Marshall gave a little laugh and said: 
“Dreaming? No, indeed! Suppose I should tell 
you that somej day I expect to be the bride of Count 
Kolopinski; would you think me dreaming ?” 

“You certainly don’t mean it?” 

“Yes, when he returns from Russia. I like my 
dreams, and tomorrow you will love yours.” 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


DEATH WONDERFULLY FORESHADOWED 

For a few weeks after the return to Boston times 
were very busy, and Mr. Averill began to feel the 
effects of hard work. Judge Holmes was going to 
visit his son, who was a student in Lehigh Univer- 
sity, at Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, and Mr. Averill 
concluded he would take a few days’ vacation and 
go with him. They were to leave early in the morn- 
ing and were going by the Poughkeepsie Bridge 
route. Harold bade Mr. Averill good-bye and 
retired. 

A little after nine next morning he came down to 
the library. Its shutters were closed and the room 
was nearly dark. Enough light came through the 
lattice-work so he could see Mr. Averill in his big 
chair, leaning forward, apparently in deep study. 

“Mr. Averill, did you miss your train ?” he 
inquired, in surprise. 

There was no answer save the ticking of the clock, 
which, in the stillness of the closed room, seemed 
unusually loud. Advancing a little closer, he asked, 
anxiously : “Mr. Averill, what caused you to 

return ?” 


182 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


No movement, no voice, no indication except the 
presence of the figure gave evidence of any living 
thing in the room. Thoroughly aroused, he extended 
his hand to lay it on Mr. Averill’s shoulder — it 
touched nothing. 

“What was it? A phantom figure? Certainly 
not; it must have been Mr. Averill, but where is 
he now.” Harold threw open the shutters and 
looked about the room in amazement. The empty 
chair, the big library table piled full of books and 
the usual furnishings of the room were there — 
nothing else. 

“Certainly, this is very strange; I must see if 
Alvey has returned,” he said to himself, half-dazed. 

He rang for the valet, who at once appeared, 
smiling and gracious. 

“Alvey, did you see Mr. Averill off?” 

“Yes, Monsieur, I saw him get on the train.” 

“What time did the train leave ?” 

“About seven.” 

Harold began to walk back and forth in front of 
the big library table. Then, turning to the valet 
just as he was closing the door, added: “Alvey, 
order the coupe to be at the door in half an hour.” 

After a hurried breakfast he drove to the Boston 
and Maine depot, and, while trying not to show ner- 
vousness, inquired at the ticket window if there had 
been any accident to the train which left at seven 
that morning. f i 


Death Wonderfully Foreshadowed 183 

“No; everything! is all right along the line. No 
accidents this morning,” was the reply. 

Harold walked nervously about the waiting-room, 
and then resolved that it was foolish to become 
excited over a mere optical illusion. He drove to 
the office of the company and commenced work on 
the applications for insurance! and proofs of loss 
which were held down, by large paper weights on 
either side of his desk. He had been thus engaged 
but a short time when a telegram was handed him, 
which read : 

“Averill died at 9 130. 

“Holmes.” 

He arose quickly to his feet to resist: a cold, creepy 
feeling that came over him suddenly. His brain 
seemed benumbed and worthless. 

“Mr. Averill dead ! How strange that I should 
see him in his own chair at home at the time he died ! 
What power painted that picture?” 

He communicated the sad news to those about the 
office, the blinds were drawn, and everything took on 
an air of mourning. 

The meeting between Harold and) Judge Holmes 
showed that the two men were deeply affected by 
the sudden demise of their old friend and associate. 
They grasped hands and were silent for a moment, 
and then Harold said : 

“Was it an accident ?” 


184 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


“No; the train stopped at a little station and Mr. 
Averill got out to speak to an old acquaintance. 
When it started he made quite an effort to get aboard, 
and when I first saw him he was gasping for breath, 
and died in my arms in less than ten minutes.” 

“Have the physicians given the cause of death?” 

“Yes; the autopsy showed the cause of death to be 
the blocking by a clot of blood of the left coronary 
artery, one of the little arteries which supply the 
heart itself.” 

“A very common cause of sudden death from heart 
disease,” said Harold, thoughtfully. 


CHAPTER XXXIV 


WEDDING JOURNEY SURPRISES 

It was the first Monday of December, 18 — . The 
Federal Capitol and Pennsylvania Avenue swarmed 
with Senators, Congressmen, lobbyists, office-seek- 
ers, sightseers and idlers. Harold had witnessed 
these scenes before, but they were new to Florence, 
his bride, and she was enjoying every moment to its 
fullest extent. As they passed by way of the east 
front of the Capitol into the corridor leading to the 
House, a number of old habitues lifted their hats and 
spoke to Harold. 

They took the elevator for the Members’ Gallery, 
where he left her with some friends, saying he had 
an engagement on the floor of the House. Being 
familiar with every part of the Capitol, he walked 
into the cloakroom and hung up his coat and hat like 
an old member. 

In a moment the House was called to order by the 
clerk, and after the usual routine, the Congressmen 
were banished behind the last row of desks to draw 
for their seats. 

A bright page in knickerbockers was blindfolded ; 
little balls with numbers on them corresponding to 


186 


Ten Thousand on a Life 


numbers set opposite the members’ names on the 
alphabetical roll, were put in the box and churned 
about. Then the little fellow began to draw them 
out one by one, while the clerk read the names. The 
lucky ones were hurrying about selecting good seats, 
and there was laughing and jesting on every side. 

“Number 322, Wychoff, Harold D.,” shouted the 
clerk. 

“What does that mean ?” asked Florence, as Har- 
old stepped briskly to the Republican side, selecting 
desk number seventy-one. 

“Why, your husband is just drawing his seat,” 
replied James Bussel, who was one of the friends 
left in charge of her. 

“Drawing his seat ! I thought only members of 
Congress were permitted to have seats down there. 
Harold, as you know, is on his wedding journey; he 
is not a member of Congress.” 

In reply, James handed to Florence a copy of the 
preliminary list of members issued by the clerk, and 
pointed to a paragraph giving her husband as a 
member from Boston, elected on November 5 pre- 
viously. 

Her friends were enjoying her delightful surprise 
and confusion when beautiful bouquets began to ap- 
pear on number seventy-one. On one side a big shoe 
was beautifully represented, so constructed that 
“Number Tens” was written over the toe in carna- 
tions, and on the other large special designs from 
the War Department and the Royal Life Company. 


Wedding Journey Surprises 


187 


Clustered about these handsome collections were 
many lesser bouquets from admiring friends, the 
whole making the most attractive testimonial in the 
chamber. 

“Oh, how lovely ! Harold a Congressman ! Oh, I’m 
so happy,” was all Florence could say, blushing like 
a peony. 

She was indeed happy. She had often wished to 
live in Washington, but never expected to have that 
wish granted, and especially to have it come in the 
form of such a proud surprise. 

The House adjourned when the last seat had been 
drawn, and Florence and Harold set out for their 
suite of rooms at the Normandie. She was full of 
love, pride and joy, and chattered gayly of the expe- 
riences of the day. On reaching their apartments 
Harold took from his pocket a telegram and other 
papers, remarking: 

“Florence, dear, I have just received a telegram 
saying I have been elected by the Board of Directors, 
to succeed Mr. Averill as president of the Royal Life 
Company, at a salary of ten thousand dollars a year. 
Here is a check for you, calling for the amount of 
my first year’s stipend, which is Ten Thousand on 
a Life, paid in advance.” 


























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